AL-CHAR    iS 


A    BROKEN 
SWORD 


A   Tale  of  the  Civil  War 


BY 


GENERAL    CHARLES    KING 

AUTHOR  OF  "COMRADES  IN  ARMS,"  "A  KNIGHT  OF  COLUMBIA," 
"AN  APACHE  PRINCESS,"  "A  DAUGHTER  OF  THE  SIOUX," 
"THE  MEDAL  OF  HONOR,"  "THE  COLONEL'S  DAUGHTER,"  ETC. 


NEW    YORK 

THE    HOBART   COMPANY 

1905 


COPYRIGHT,   1905, 

BY 
THE    HOBART   COMPANY 


•j *>  •*    „  »».*<•**»     » 

2  H  »j  » »     »  »..•' »  o     » 

*'     »J  «»•«*«•  \,a 


/»     -a  •    .,«  »,*' 


CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

I.  GOTHAM  AT  GRACE  CHURCH        ....  5 

II.  A  SIGNIFICANT  DISCUSSION 16 

III.  A  REPRIMAND  SPOILED 31 

IV.  A  FAIR  GEORGIAN 50 

V.  MRS.  RUTHERFORD'S  MALADY      ....  60 

VI.  CLASHING  AUTHORITY 71 

VII.  A  SOUTHERN  GENTLEMAN 86 

VIII.  AN  ARREST  EVADED 98 

IX.  BETWEEN  Two  DUTIES in 

X.  His  SUPERIOR  OFFICER 121 

XI.  WHO  is  MAJOR  FORNO? 136 

XII.  GARRY  OWEN  NA  GLORIA 150 

XIII.  A  NIGHT  PATROL 163 

XIV.  A  GRAVE  ACCUSATION 179 

XV.  A  SUPREME  MOMENT 191 

XVI.  THE  CHARGE  OF  THE  FIFTH        ....  203 

XVII.  TRASH  OR  TREASON?      .       .       .       .       ,       .21? 

3 


4  CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

XVIII.  WITNESS  FOR  THE  PROSECUTION        .       .       .223 

XIX.     "GIVE  HIM  ROPE" 236 

XX.  A  CRUCIAL  INTERVIEW  ....       .       .249 

XXI.  IN  DEFENSE  OF  A  BROTHER        .       .       .       .261 

XXII.    A  RUINED  CAREER 273 

XXIII.  A  GENTLEMAN  AT  LAST 287 

XXIV.  THE  WEB  UNTANGLED 298 


A    BROKEN   SWORD. 


CHAPTER   I. 

GOTHAM  AT  GRACE  CHURCH. 

IT  was  a  soft,  balmy 'April  morning — early  April  at 
that — and  New  York  in  general,  and  Grace 
Church  in  particular,  had  been  taken  by  surprise. 
Furs  and  heavy  overcoats  had  been  the  vogue  up  to 
Friday  night  and,  as  noontide  of  Sunday  drew  near, 
and,  with  it,  the  climax  of  the  Doctor's  sermon, 
Brown,  the  big  sexton,  had  thrown  open  the  outer 
doors  and  was  actually  mopping  his  brow. 

Two  young  men  stood  chatting  in  subdued  tone  on 
the  stone  step  at  the  main  entrance  when  the  heavy 
portals  unexpectedly  swung  inward.  Broadway  at 
the  moment  was  silent  and  well  nigh  deserted.  None 
of  the  dozen  "bus"  lines  profaned  the  Sabbath  still- 
ness of  those  days  by  jar  of  hoof  or  rumble  of  wheel 
upon  the  Russ  pavement.  Cabs  and  hansoms  were 
unknown.  -  A  policeman  sauntered  along  the  opposite 
sidewalk  in  front  of  the  St.  Denis.  A  few  private  car- 
riages were  already  drawn  up  along  the  curb  await- 
ing the  coming  forth  of  their  pious  owners — some  of 

5 


6  A    BROKEN    SWORD. 

the  coachmen  looking  choked  in  their  heavy  winter 
capes;  but  not  one  moving  vehicle;,  not  a  dozen  pedes- 
trians, could  be.-GQttrited-m  the  two  blocks  between 
Tenth  and  TwelttH  street.-- -It  -was  before  the  days 
of  cable  cars.  It  was  before  Raines  laws  had  been 
heard  of,  yet  Phelan's  great  billiard  rooms  adjoining 
the  church  on  the  Tenth  street  side,  with  everything 
appertaining  to  them,  were  closed. 

An  almost  rural  silence  reigned.  The  murmured 
conversation  between  the  gallants  upon  the  church 
steps  was  audible  to  them  and  evidently  intended  to 
be  audible  to  no  one  else,  for  it  ceased  suddenly  as 
Brown  strode  forth  between  the  swinging  doors  and, 
at  sight  of  the  pair,  bowed  with  the  dignity  and  im- 
portance of  a  Turveydrop. 

"Ha!  Our  ecclesiastical  Falstaff  in  all  his  glory!" 
said  the  elder  of  the  two,  with  something  like  a  sneer, 
a  trifle  of  impatience,  too,  in  his  tone  and  manner,  for 
he  had  been  talking  eagerly  to  his  companion,  and  the 
interruption  came  at  the  wrong  moment. 

"And  he  salutes  Prince  Hal  with  all  loyalty,"  an- 
swered the  portly  sexton.  "You  bear  the  sunshine  of 
the  savannas  with  you,  Captain  Wallis.  If  the  ad- 
vance guard  of  the  South  come  in  this  fashion  what 
will  the  main  body  bring  us?" 

"Better  manners,  Brown;  and,  possibly,  better 
sense,"  was  the  sharp,  irritable  answer,  and  the 
speaker,  a  tall,  slender,  most  distinguished-looking 
man,  turned  abruptly  and,  linking  his  arm  in  that  of 
his  companion,  led  him  a  few  paces  away  and  again 


GOTHAM  AT  GRACE  CHURCH.    7 

began  his  eager,  low-toned  talk.  It  was  evident  that 
the  sudden  apparition  had  annoyed — even  shaken — 
him.  It  was  evident,  too,  that  he  resented  the  semi- 
familiar  manner  of  the  renowned  sexton  and  meant 
that  he  should  know  it. 

"Odds  boddikins!"  said  Brown,  in  high  dudgeon. 
"The  captain  is  snippier  than  ever  this  morning. 
Wants  to  borrow  a  thousand  of  young  Barclay,  I'm 
betting  a  bottle!  Better  manners  and  sense,  indeed!" 
Wrath  fully  he  glared  at  the  two  a  moment.  There 
was  none  of  the  meekness  of  the  cloister  about  Brown. 
Sexton  of  Gotham's  most  famous  and  fashionable 
church;  accustomed  for  years  to  preside  at  every  fu- 
neral, wedding  or  baptism  in  high  society,  even  at 
times  when  the  interested  parties  were  not  of  his  con- 
gregation; precursor  of  the  lamented  Ward  McAllis- 
ter as  an  authority  on  social  standing;  possessor  of  an 
alphabetical  array  of  New  Yorkers  known  to  society 
as  "Brown's  List"  that  was  accepted  as  submissively 
as  is  Debrett  or  Burke  abroad;  arbiter  of  many  a  ques- 
tion of  social  precedence;  autocrat  of  his  profession; 
bowed  down  to  by  hundreds  who  would  appear  upon 
his  books  yet  could  not,  and  smiled  upon  by  those 
already  there,  he  took  it  ill  that  all  symptom  of  defer- 
ence was  denied  him  by  this  haughty  military  person- 
age whose  annual  stipend  was  so  much  less  than  his 
own,  tips  not  included.  He  could  not  stomach  it  that 
he  should  be  treated  with  disdain.  He  stood  there  at 
the  Gothic  portal  red  with  wrath;  swelling  with  indig- 
nation; far  too  much  amazed  to  know  just  how  to 


8  A    BROKEN    SWORD. 

resent  the  indignity,  when  of  a  sudden  the  swinging 
doors  beyond  the  vestibule  burst  open  and  there  fairly 
staggered  into  view  a  party  of  three;  a  gray-haired 
woman,  richly  dressed,  although  in  mourning,  but 
evidently  stricken  by  some  sudden  malady  or  emo- 
tion, supported  by  two  anxious  yet  youthful  forms, 
one  that  of  a  fair  girl,  the  other  of  a  slight-built, 
flaxen-haired  youth,  both  garbed  in  the  height  of  the 
fashion  of  the  day,  which  in  the  woman's  case  was 
ridiculous.  The  main  difficulty  in  assisting  the  invalid 
arose  from  the  vast  expanse  of  dress-goods  worn 
"below  the  belt"  by  both  herself  and  the  girl.  The 
crinoline  of  '61,  being  never  less  than  five  to  six  feet 
in  diameter  at  the  base,  made  the  wearer  look  for  all 
the  world  like  an  inverted  peg  top. 

But  Brown,  being  built  on  different  lines  and  taper- 
ing from  the  ground  upward  to  the  waist,  became 
available  at  the  instant.  His  huge  bulk  was  brought 
to  bear  without  a  second's  delay.  His  red  face  and 
angering  eyes  took  on  a  look  of  deepest  sympathy. 
One  sweeping  gesture  summoned  the  half  dozing 
coachman  on  the  box  of  the  nearest  carriage.  A 
stalwart  arm  relieved  the  trembling  girl.  "Simply  a 
little  faint.  The  day  is  too  suddenly  warm,"  he  reas- 
suringly spoke,  even  while  he  narrowly  studied  the 
pallid  face  of  the  tottering  woman.  ''Home  at  once, 
Miss  Rutherford,"  he  murmured.  "A  little  sal  am- 
moniac, and  I'll  have  Dr.  Tracy  after  you  in  the  next 
carriage." 

And  so,  bidding  the  speechless  sufferer  to  lean  her 


GOTHAM  AT  GRACE  CHURCH.    9 

weight  upon  his  strength,  he  slowly  led  her  across  the 
pavement  to  the  curb;  opened  the  carriage  door,  nor 
would  he  step  aside  when  the  sound  of  anxious  voices 
told  him  Captain  Wallis  and  Mr.  Barclay  had  sprung 
to  their  assistance.  Unaided  save  by  young  Ruther- 
ford, the  son,  he  placed  the  lady  within  the  carriage; 
saw  that  her  daughter  was  seated  beside  her;  mo- 
tioned the  youth  to  jump  in;  slammed  the  door;  said, 
"Home,  lively,"  to  the  coachman;  then  turned  and  in 
self-conscious,  pompous  triumph  confronted  his  re- 
cent reviler  and  the  little  knot  of  sympathetic  friends 
that  had  gathered  quickly  from  within. 

'Tray  have  no  uneasiness,"  said  he.  'The  Doctor's 
war  pictures  have  been  a  bit  too  much  for  Mrs.  Ruth- 
erford's nerves.  She,  at  least,  has  some  excuse  for 
her  Southern  sympathies — she  is  a  Georgian,"  and 
here  he  looked  with  much  significance  into  the  imper- 
turbable features  of  Captain  Wallis. 

"Possibly,  ah,  Brown,  you  might  display  wisdom  by 
summoning  Dr.  Tracy,  nevertheless,"  said  the  tall 
officer,  as  he  quickly  bent  and  possessed  himself  of  a 
small  silken  bag  that,  unnoticed  by  the  Rutherfords 
or  the  sexton,  had  fallen  at  the  edge  of  the  pavement. 

"That,  Captain  Wallis,  I  purpose  doing  at  once," 
answered  Brown,  with  much  dignity.  "And  further, 
if  you  please,  I  will  ask  him  to  return  to  them  that 
reticule." 

"I  shall  do  that  in  person,"  replied  the  captain,  with 
airy  superiority  of  mien  and  manner.  "You  need 
trouble  neither  the  Doctor  nor  yourself.  Shall  we  go, 


io  A    BROKEN    SWORD. 

Barclay?"  and,  raising  his  silk  hat  to  the  little  group, 
Wallis  turned  placidly  away. 

For  a  moment  no  word  was  spoken.  Perhaps  a 
dozen  people  by  this  time  had  gathered  in  front  of 
the  sanctuary,  several  of  them  anxious  friends  of  Mrs. 
Rutherford  who  had  followed  her  from  within,  the 
others  mere  loungers  and  saunterers  attracted  to  the 
spot  through  curiosity.  By  sight  or  reputation  every- 
body knew  Brown.  He  was  far  more  frequently 
quoted  or  mentioned  than  was  his  superior,  the  rec- 
tor, and  the  sight  of  the  great  man  standing  there  in 
the  noonday  sunshine,  gazing  in  wrath  after  the  dis- 
turber of  his  peace,  was  something  that  for  a  moment 
silenced  them  all.  The  sound  of  the  City  Hall  bell, 
two  miles  distant,  yet  in  those  days  distinctly  audible 
of  a  Sunday,  beginning  with  its  companions  in  the  fire 
watch  towers  the  stroke  of  twelve,  recalled  him  to 
himself.  Mechanically  he  wrested  a  fine  hunting- 
cased  gold  watch  from  the  pocket  of  his  glossy,  glob- 
ular, silken  waistcoat;  glanced  at  the  face  to  compare 
notes  with  the  keeper  of  the  city's  time;  then  quickly 
re-entered  the  church;  tiptoed  under  the  subdued 
light  of  the  stained-glass  windows  up  the  carpeted 
aisle,  while  the  gray-haired  pastor  read  on  from  his 
impressive  sermon;  tapped  softly  upon  a  black  broad- 
clothed  shoulder  and  whispered  a  word  in  the  ear  of 
a  portly  gentleman.  The  first  response  was  a  shrug 
of  impatience,  an  effort  to  wave  the  disturber  aside; 
for  Dr.  Tracy  was  listening  intently,  as  was  the  entire 
congregation,  to  the  Doctor's  words.  It  was  the  first 


GOTHAM  AT  GRACE  CHURCH.    n 

time  within  those  walls  that  the  possibilities  of  the 
great  "impending  conflict"  between  the  North  and 
South  had  been  touched  upon  and  the  time  was  more 
than  ripe,  for  shotted  guns  were  trained  on  Sumter's 
beleaguered  garrison  and  already  had  barked  their 
challenge  to  the  flag  of  the  Union,  driving  back  to  sea 
the  Star  of  the  West  as  she  steamed  across  the  bar, 
laden  with  needed  reinforcements  and  supplies.  It 
was  not  until  the  sexton  bent  a  second  time  and  whis- 
pered, "Mrs.  Rutherford's  ill  and  taken  home,"  that 
Dr.  Tracy  slowly  found  his  feet  and  the  aisle.  Even 
then  he  turned  and  bent  attentive  ear  to  the  rector's 
eloquent  periods  and  exchanged  glances  with  an 
elderly  man  whose  eyes  were  snapping  with  sup- 
pressed feeling,  whose  usually  crisp  curling  gray  hair 
seemed  charged  with  electricity,  for  the  rector  was 
preaching  the  gospel  of  peace  at  any  price  at  the  very 
moment  when  throughout  the  Southern  States,  far 
and  near,  good  Episcopalians  as  these  in  Gotham  were 
besieging  the  throne  of  grace  with  importunity  in 
behalf  of  a  President  of  their  own  choice,  ignoring 
him  whom  the  nation  had  so  recently  called  to  the 
chair.  It  was  ten  minutes  after  twelve  when  at  last 
the  great  physician  drove  away,  and,  though  he  had 
barely  seven  blocks  to  traverse,  was  surprised  to  find 
Captain  Wallis  on  the  broad  brownstone  steps  in 
rapid  conversation  with  flaxen-haired  young  Ruther- 
ford, who  had  come  forth  bareheaded.  A  third  per- 
son, Mr.  Barclay,  stood  a  silent  but  most  interested 
listener. 


12  A    BROKEN    SWORD. 

Tracy  nodded  brusquely  to  Wallis — he  did  not  like 
him  at  all;  failed  to  notice  the  respectful  lift  of  the 
hat  accorded  him  by  Mr.  Barclay,  whom  he  had 
known  since  the  day  he  ushered  him  into  the  world, 
and,  taking  Rutherford  by  the  arm,  led  him  within 
the  broad  vestibule,  never  noting  the  fact  that,  while 
Barclay  hung  back,  Wallis  followed  at  his  heels,  and 
as  the  physician  ascended  the  stairs  to  the  second 
story  the  officer  turned  calmly  into  the  parlor  of  the 
old  Fifth  Avenue  homestead.  Two  minutes  later  the 
latter  came  forth  into  the  sunshine  to  find  that  Barclay 
had  descended  the  broad  flight  of  steps  and  was  halted 
irresolute  on  the  sidewalk. 

Up  and  down  the  avenue  the  churches  were  just  be- 
ginning to  pour  forth  their  congregations,  and  the 
gay  hour — the  promenade  hour — of  the  week  was 
about  to  begin.  Any  sunlit  afternoon  would  find 
many  of  Gotham's  social  circle  sauntering  along  the 
broad  sidewalks  between  the  limits  of  Tenth  Street 
and  the  reservoir;  but  on  Sunday,  freshly  garbed  and 
gloved  and  duly  inspired  by  the  words  of  grace  to 
which  they  had  listened  for  the  hour  past,  every  man 
and  woman  worthy  the  notice  of  the  elect  made  the 
solemn  tour  afoot.  One  might,  even  in  those  church- 
going  days,  neglect  the  service,  but  never  the  stroll, 
and  for  six  months  past  Captain  Wallis,  stationed  at 
Governor's  Island,  had  rarely  been  known  to  miss  it 
until  mid  March,  when  suddenly  sent  South  on  some 
errand  that  seemed  to  take  precedence.  He  had  just 
returned,  as  Brown  had  intimated,  and  now,  instead  of 


GOTHAM  AT  GRACE  CHURCH.    13 

reappearing  in  the  promenade — a  man  immaculate  in 
dress  and  unimpeachable  in  bearing  and  distinction — 
he  seemed  bent  on  other  projects,  for  he  called  to 
Barclay,  and  there  was  something  of  command  in  his 
tone,  bidding  him  return.  Wallis  had  more  to  say 
to  him. 

Barclay  came  half  way  up  the  steps.  "Then  say  it 
as  we  walk,  Wallis.  I — I  don't  like  to  intrude  at  such 
a  time." 

"You  couldn't  intrude  here  at  any  time,"  was  the 
curt  rejoinder.  "I  could,  and  I  need  you  for  a  cloak 
to  my  intrusion.  No  one  is  in  the  parlor.  We  can 
continue  our  talk  there;  we  cannot  at  the  club." 

"I've  said — all  I  had  to  say,"  was  Barclay's  answer, 
but  as  he  spoke  his  eyes  were  wandering  to  the  upper 
windows,  his  face  was  grave  and  perturbed. 

"You  think  you  have,  man,  because  you  haven't 
heard  half  I  have  to  say  to  you.  What's  more,  it's  got 
to  be  said  to-day  or  written  to-night.  Which  will  you 
take?"  and  there  was  something  like  menace  now  in 
the  tone. 

"I  don't  wish  Rutherford  to — suspect,"  began  Bar- 
clay. 

"Who  can  better  help  you?  He  was  your  chum  at 
Columbia.  You  did  him  a  service  not  four  months 
ago.  You  pulled  him  through  his  senior  year,  if  all 
I  hear  be  true.  He  can't  have  forgotten  he  owed  his 
sheepskin  to  you  last  June  and  his  sweetheart  last 
January." 

"That's  just  why  I  won't  draw  on  him,"  and  now 


i4  A    BROKEN    SWORD. 

Barclay's  handsome  young  face  was  setting  white  and 
stern.  "Moreover,  Captain  Wallis,  I  should  have  to 
tell  him  why  I  asked  it  and  thereby  confirm  his  sus- 
picions. He — warned  me  of  this  last  winter." 

"Ah,  did  he?  Oh,  good  morning,  Mrs.  Griswold!" 
and  Wallis  bowed  with  courtly  grace  to  the  foremost 
couple  of  a  little  procession  issuing  from  the  church- 
yard in  the  block  below,  a  woman  with  social  ambi- 
tion, a  man  with  none  outside  the  stock  market,  and 
in  the  eyes  of  both  there  was  mild  surprise.  Harold 
Wallis — "Prince  Hal"  to  a  certain  coterie  that  was 
limited  in  the  start  and  already  growing  smaller — was 
no  favorite  with  the  Griswold  clique,  yet  here  he  stood 
at  the  portals  of  the  most  exclusive  mansion  on  the 
avenue,  one  whose  threshold  they  had  never  crossed, 
yet  here  were  those  portals  wide  open  to  him.  Bar- 
clay had  raised  his  beaver  in  civil,  if  perfunctory,  salu- 
tation, then  turned  as  though  to  leave,  but  Wallis  laid 
a  detaining  hand  upon  his  arm. 

"Come  back,  youngster,"  said  he. 

"No,"  said  Barclay.  "If  you  need  say  more  I'll  be 
at  the  Union  at  one  o'clock." 

"Come  back,  youngster,"  repeated  Wallis,  as  he 
drew  the  silken  bag  from  the  breast  of  his  natty  spring 
overcoat.  "Who  shall  give  this  to  Miss  Ethel — you 
or  I?  Ten  minutes  with  me,  then  twenty  with  her. 
Isn't  it  worth  it?" 

For  a  moment  Barclay  stood,  his  color  and  his 
courage  coming  and  going,  then  he  turned  and  fol- 
lowed the  elder  into  the  house.  Once  within  the  hall 


GOTHAM  AT  GRACE  CHURCH.    15 

the  latter  stopped,  closed  the  massive  doors  behind 
them  and  motioned  to  his  captive  to  enter  the  parlor. 
This,  too,  almost  in  the  face,  of  the  advance  guard  of 
anxious  inquirers  from  the  congregation  of  Grace 
Church. 


CHAPTER    II. 

A    SIGNIFICANT    DISCUSSION. 

IT  had  been  a  strange  half  year  in  the  great  city— 
that  that  followed  the  presidential  election  of 
November,  1860.  The  people  had  chosen  for  their 
chief  magistrate  a  son  of  the  soil  from  the  far  West 
rather  than  the  great  leader  who  had  twice  served 
as  governor  of  the  Empire  State  and  long  years  in  the 
Senate,  and  plainly  did  New  York  show  that  New 
Yorkers  didn't  like  it.  Who  was  Abraham  Lincoln 
that  he  should  be  held  the  peer  of  William  H.  Sew- 
ard?  None  but  Horace  Greeley,  the  veteran  editor  of 
the  "Tribune,"  who  more  than  any  one  man  had  de- 
stroyed Seward's  chances  in  the  Chicago  convention, 
could  or  would  say  now;  for  few  remembered  the 
speech  of  the  tall,  ungainly  Westerner  at  the  Cooper 
Institute  only  the  year  before — he  whose  words  were 
destined  to  go  ringing  down  the  ages,  quoted,  revered 
and  studied,  as  have  been  those  of  no  other  leader  in 
our  national  life.  In  apathy,  if  not  indifference,  many 
people  had  read  the  news  that  State  after  State,  South 
Carolina  leading  the  ill-starred  procession,  had  sev- 
ered its  ties  with  the  Union  and  seized  all  federal 
property  within  its  gates.  The  old  New  York  Hotel 
was  thronged  with  jubilant,  boastful  Southerners  and 

16 


A    SIGNIFICANT    DISCUSSION.          17 

their  Northern  sympathizers,  many  wearing  openly 
the  badge  of  their  new-born  Confederacy.  The  ''stars 
and  bars"  in  silk  and  silver  and  gold  were  flaunted  on 
many  a  smiling  woman's  bodice,  or  pinned  to  the 
waistcoat  of  excited  and  exultant  men.  The  veteran 
general  of  the  army,  hero  of  the  wars  of  1812  and 
Mexico,  driven  from  Washington  by  the  slights  of 
successive  war  secretaries,  all  Southern  born  and  bred, 
had  been  dwelling  in  New  York  until  the  demands  of 
the  solid  business  element  of  the  nation  had  wrung 
from  President  Buchanan  in  the  last  months  of  his 
administration  the  naming  of  Joseph  Holt,  a  strong 
Unionist,  as  Secretary  of  War,  and  Edwin  M.  Stanton, 
of  Pennsylvania,  as  Attorney  General,  and  through 
these  came  the  recall  of  Scott  to  his  proper  station. 
But  even  then  the  adjutant  general's  office  was  in  the 
hands  of  a  soldier  schooled  by  such  as  Jefferson  Davis 
and  John  B.  Floyd.  Almost  every  important  post  or 
arsenal  had  been  placed  in  charge  of  a  Southern  of- 
ficer. Even  at  West  Point  the  teachings  of  the  na- 
tional Corps  of  Cadets  had  been  confided  to  men 
strong  in  their  assertion  of  State's  rights  and  South- 
ern supremacy.  Even  at  Columbia,  New  York's  own 
college,  the  badge  of  disloyalty  was  covertly  displayed 
by  certain  students  not  even  Southern  by  birth,  but 
sympathetic  through  personal  association.  And,  at  a 
time  when  army  officers  far  and  near  were  tendering 
their  resignations  and  quitting  the  service  of  the 
Union  for  that  of  the  South,  Harold  Wallis,  captain 
of  infantry,  born,  bred  and  reared  in  the  old  army  and 


i8  A    BROKEN    SWORD. 

educated  at  West  Point,  was  daily  and  nightly  con- 
sorting with  the  Southern  extremists  in  society  and 
spending  hours  with  the  secession  element  at  the  New 
York  Hotel. 

He  had  been  accorded  the  entree  at  the  Union  and 
the  New  York  Clubs,  the  former  the  most  conserva- 
tive, the  latter  the  most  progressive  of  the  day.  But 
there  were  men  at  the  one  who  were  beginning  to  look 
upon  him  with  doubtful  eyes,  while,  strange  to  say, 
within  the  portals  of  the  other  could  be  heard  more 
expression  of  Southern  than  of  Union  sentiment.  It 
was  one  of  the  symptoms  that  misled  the  leaders  of  a 
brave  and  enthusiastic  people.  They  little  dreamed 
of  the  deep  love  and  loyalty  to  the  flag  that  underlay 
the  silence  of  the  North.  The  old  submission  to  the 
will  of  the  majority,  the  supremacy  of  the  slave-hold- 
ing States,  the  doctrine  of  freedom  of  the  press  and 
of  personal  speech,  the  fact  that  for  years  federal 
officials  of  every  grade  had  had  to  be  men  in  sym- 
pathy with  the  "peculiar  institution"  of  the  South — • 
all  still  weighed  heavily  upon  men  who  loved  the 
Union.  But  the  lightning  was  only  sleeping — the 
fire  smouldering.  "Let  the  erring  sisters  go  in  peace," 
spoke  Greeley,  through  the  "  Tribune,"  and  in  many 
a  Northern  city,  even  though  something  told  every 
thinking  man  that  in  peace  those  sisters  would  neither 
go  nor  stay,  a  peace-loving,  law-abiding,  yet,  when 
once  aroused,  a  stubborn  and  determined  people, 
seemed  content  to  let  the  advocates  of  disunion  do 
all  the  talking,  and  talk  they  certainly  did. 


A    SIGNIFICANT    DISCUSSION.          19 

That  very  Sunday  of  the  Rutherfords'  sudden  exit 
from  the  sanctuary  and  within  an  hour  from  the  clos- 
ing of  the  church  doors,  the  throng  on  the  sunlit  ave- 
nue dispersed  for  luncheon,  and  a  dozen  people,  men 
and  women,  had  gathered  about  the  hospitable  board 
of  an  old  family  mansion  in  Fourteenth  Street.  A 
matronly  dame  and  her  daughters  were  entertaining 
guests  who  had  casually  dropped  in,  for  the  head  of 
the  house  had  stopped  to  have  a  warning  word  with 
the  rector  of  Grace.  Three  young  women  and  as 
many  attendant  cavaliers  made  up  the  party  of  visit- 
ors. Of  these  one  eager,  animated  girl,  whose  accent 
plainly  bespoke  her  far  Southern  birth,  wore  openly 
upon  her  breast  a  little  silken  flag  that  bore  the  colors 
but  not  the  pattern  of  the  stars  and  stripes.  Next 
her  was  seated  a  youth  upon  whose  waistcoat  could 
be  occasionally  seen  the  counterpart  of  the  badge  so 
ostentatiously  displayed  by  the  girl  from  whom  he 
hardly  once  removed  his  eyes.  Fascination  was  ap- 
parent to  one  and  all,  nor  was  it  a  new  story.  Jimmy 
Granger's  devotion  to  the  fair  Georgian  had  been  ob- 
vious to  uppertendom  since  her  coming  early  the  pre- 
vious autumn.  On  her  other  hand,  and  seated  next 
the  mistress  of  the  homestead,  was  Wallis,  blithe  and 
debonair  as  ever,  and  taking  up  much  of  the  talk 
not  monopolized  by  Miss  Brenham,  for,  with  the  rec- 
tors sermon  as  a  text,  that  brilliant  young  woman 
'had  launched  into  an  eager,  vehement  defense  of  the 
action  of  her  native  State.  Once  in  awhile  some  of 
her  own  sex  ventured  a  word  of  polite  dissent,  or  re- 


20  A    BROKEN    SWORD. 

monstrance,  but  not  so  Wallis.  If  anything,  he  urged 
her  on  in  a  vivid,  verbal  picture  she  was  drawing — 
the  contrast  in  social  life  as  it  had  been  in  Washing- 
ton under  the  guidance  of  the  courtly  Buchanan  and 
his  gifted,  gracious  niece,  and  as  it  must  be  under  this 
new  occupant  of  the  White  House,  "this  commoner 
of  the  commonest  with  his  countrified,  ignorant  wife." 
Across  the  table,  silent,  yet  evidently  chafing  and 
disturbed,  sat  a  man  of  possibly  twenty-six,  shorter 
of  stature  than  Wallis  by  nearly  a  head;  fair  in  hair 
and  complexion  where  the  other  was  dark;  with  eyes 
of  deep  blue,  whereas  those  of  Wallis  were  well  nigh 
black  and  sparkling  like  a  diamond  he  wore  in  the 
ring  of  his  Roman  scarf;  a  man  whose  dress  was  far 
more  quiet  in  cut  and  color,  if  not,  indeed,  a  trifle 
quaint,  while  Wallis  was  garbed  in  the  height  of  the 
prevailing  mode  and  wore  his  garments  with  infinite 
dash  and  style;  a  man  somewhat  shy  and  reserved, 
whereas  Wallis  had  the  assurance  and  air  of  a  Brum- 
mell;  but  a  man  as  distinctly  a  soldier  in  bearing  and 
carriage  as  was  Wallis  himself,  and  with  better  claim, 
for  his  right  cheek  was  deeply  seamed  where  plowed 
but  recently  by  Indian  arrow,  and  Wallis,  with  several 
more  years  of  service,  had  never  a  scratch.  To  him 
— the  shy  and  silent  one — a  daughter  of  the  house 
spoke  frequently;  striving  to  draw  him  into  chat;  to 
make  the  conversation  general;  to  break  up,  if  pos- 
sible, the  monopoly  compelled  by  the  magnetism  of 
the  Georgian.  But  the  blue-eyed  soldier  seemed  held 
by  seme  strange  fascination.  His  replies  were  brief 


A    SIGNIFICANT    DISCUSSION.          21 

and  even  irrelevant.  His  whole  attention  seemed 
concentrated  on  what  she  and  Wallis  were  saying, 
but  there  were  ominous  indications  that  he  was  medi- 
tating vehement  reply;  and  the  other  gentleman,  the 
third  of  the  party,  a  younger  brother  of  Captain  Wal- 
lis, watched  him  narrowly  in  evident  anticipation  of 
an  outbreak.  The  soldier's  lips  were  twitching;  his 
moustache  bristling;  his  fingers  thrumming  nervously, 
sometimes  on  the  arm  of  his  chair  and  sometimes  on 
the  table;  and  the  one  or  two  who  knew  him  well 
and  had  known  him  long  felt  that  a  clash  was  surely 
coming,  for  Bernard  Hoyt  was  a  loyalist  to  the  back- 
bone— a  young  troop  leader  renowned  in  the  cavalry, 
though  still  far  from  his  captaincy — and,  from  the  mo- 
ment of  their  first  meeting  under  this  very  roof,  three 
weeks  before  and  just  prior  to  the  sudden  mission  of 
Wallis  to  the  South,  it  was  patent  to  those  who  ob- 
served that  no  love  was  lost  between  these  fellow 
soldiers — that  Hoyt  held  Wallis  in  marked  disfavor. 
It  was  something  the  head  of  the  house,  the  gray- 
haired  gentleman  with  whom  Dr.  Tracy  had  ex- 
changed significant  glances  in  church,  had  noted  at 
the  moment,  and  had  never  forgotten  since.  It  was 
known  that  they  had  served  together  on  the  Utah  ex- 
pedition, Hoyt  with  the  cavalry,  Wallis  on  the  staff. 
Wallis  had  come  over  from  the  Island  the  evening  of 
that  occurrence  with  a  brother  officer,  a  South  Caro- 
linian who  had  just  resigned  and  was  still  in  New 
York,  waiting  for  his  tailor  to  finish  the  new  uniforms 
of  Confederate  gray  that  in  March,  '61,  were  being 


22  A    BROKEN    SWORD. 

made,  even  there,  in  greater  numbers  than  were  those 
of  Union  blue.  They  were  paying  a  dinner  call  when 
the  butler  entered  with  a  card;  and  a  young  man 
appeared  at  the  doorway,  at  sight  of  whom  one  of 
the  family  sprang  forward  and  welcomed  him  with 
eager  delight.  She  had  met  and  known  him  well,  it 
seems,  when  visiting  kindred  in  the  far  West.  Joy- 
ously she  presented  him  to  her  parents  and  sisters, 
then  turned  to  Wallis  and  his  Southern  comrade  who 
had  risen  as  courtesy  demanded. 

"Ah,  Hoyt,  dear  boy,  when  did  you  blow  hither? 
Thought  you  were  still  chasing  Indians  out  on  the 
Smoky  Hill,"  said  Wallis,  airily.  A  flush  mounted 
instantly  to  the  new  arrival's  face.  "How  do  you  do, 
Captain  Wallis,"  he  said,  with  cold  civility;  giving 
but  a  limp  and  reluctant  hand  to  that  held  forth  to 
him;  then,  quickly  turning,  he  took  in  both  his  the 
faltering  hand  of  the  South  Carolinian:  "Haines,  old 
fellow,  I'm  so  glad  to  see  you!  and — so  very  sorry  to 
hear — -of  your  going,"  he  said. 

There  was  something  strangely  significant  in  the 
difference  of  his  manner  toward  these  two,  presum- 
ably, comrades  and  brother  officers — -his  cold  respect 
to  the  soldier  superior  who  still  remained  upon  the 
army  rolls,  his  almost  affectionate  greeting  to  a  for- 
mer messmate,  who,  following  the  dictates  of  his  con- 
science and  the  teachings  of  a  lifetime,  had  thrown 
up  his  commission  to  follow  the  fortunes  of  his  State. 

Hoyt's  visit  that  evening  had  been  but  a  brief  one. 
To  the  regret  of  the  household  he  speedily  took  his 


A    SIGNIFICANT    DISCUSSION.          23 

leave;  explaining  that,  being  only  just  arrived  in  New 
York,  he  had  many  old  friends  to  "look  up,"  and  then, 
with  a  glance  at  the  Southerner  and  a  slight  shade 
of  embarrassment,  he  added  that  there  was  no  saying 
whether  he  could  expect  to  enjoy  his  entire  leave.  "I 
hope  to  see  you  again  before  you  go  South,"  he  said 
to  Haines,  whereas  to  Wallis  he  expressed  no  desire 
of  future  meeting  at  all. 

"Very — ah — creditable.  At  least — ah — quite  so," 
said  Wallis,  not  two  minutes  after  Hoyt  had  gone,  for 
the  latter's  record  on  the  plains  had  been  referred  to 
and  the  senior  officer  found  himself  directly  ad- 
dressed. 

"Quite  so!"  exclaimed  Haines,  impetuously.  "Why, 
Wallis,  you  know  well  your  own  chief  said  there  was 
no  finer  young  troop  leader  in  the  service,  and  if  ever 
a  man  knew  a  soldier  it  is  Sidney  Johnston," 

And  now  again  these  men  had  met,  as  luck  would 
have  it,  not  only  under  that  same  roof  but  at  a  lunch- 
eon table;  the  one,  though  still  a  wearer  of  the  army 
blue,  a  kinsman  of  some  of  the  best  and  oldest  families 
of-*  the  South  and  the  daily  associate  of  those  who 
sought  the  utter  disruption  of  the  Union;  the  other, 
Northern  by  birth  and  lineage  and  Union  to  his 
heart's  core.  It  was  evident  to  almost  every  one  at 
the  table  that  Hoyt  was  only  waiting  for  a  pause  in 
the  vehement  flow  of  the  fair  Georgian's  words  to 
enter  the  lists,  and,  above  all  things,  the  hostess  hated 
argument  or  discussion  that  bade  fair  to  be  warm. 
Something  had  to  be  done. 


24  A    BROKEN    SWORD. 

"Captain  Wallis,"  she  said,  turning  full  upon  him 
and  compelling  his  attention,  "you  began  saying  how 
you  left  Mrs.  Rutherford,  but  became  so  engrossed 
in  what  Miss  Brenham  was  telling  us  that  you  never 
finished;  and,  Mr.  Hoyt,  the  Rutherfords  are  your 
kinsfolk,  I  think.  Let  me  see,  your  mother  was  Dor- 
othy Renwick  and  she  and  Gerald  Rutherford  were 
first  cousins,  were  they  not?" 

"Only  second,  Mrs.  Leroy." 

"Then  you  and  Ethel  are  not  near  of  kin  at  all.  I 
thought — we  all  thought " 

"We  were  boy  and  girl  chums, — perhaps  sweet- 
hearts," said  Hoyt,  with  slight  access  of  color,  for 
Wallis  had  whirled  in  his  chair  and  was  watching  him 
narrowly.  "I  was  not  at  Grace  this  morning,  but  I — 
left  the  Rutherfords  only  just  before  coming  here. 
Mrs.  Rutherford  was  then  quite  restored  and  much 
more  composed." 

"And  Ethel?" 

"Ethel  was  busy  in  the  parlor  receiving  and  reas- 
suring inquiring  friends." 

"You  left  Ned  Barclay  there,  I'll  warrant!"  cried 
Miss  Brenham,  impetuously.  "He  has  been  an 
adorer  ever  since  her  return  from  Europe  a  year 
ago." 

"Mr.  Barclay  was  one  of  several  who  were  still 
there  when  I  came  away,"  answered  Hoyt,  with  grave 
reserve  of  manner.  "Mrs.  Rutherford's  sudden  illness 
seemed  to  be  due  to  the  raking  up  of  an  old  sorrow. 
I  dare  say  you  all  know  how  Ralph,  her  first-born, 


A    SIGNIFICANT    DISCUSSION.          25 

met  his  death,"  and  now  the  steely  blue  eyes  were 
looking  first  at  Wallis,  then  at  Miss  Brenham,  and 
straight  into  the  eyes  of  both.  "The  rector's  unfortu- 
nate sermon " 

"Pardon  me,  ah,  Hoyt,"  interrupted  Wallis,  at 
once,  and  with  just  a  symptom  of  haste  despite  his 
airy  manner,  "pardon  my  saying  that  it  is  very  unlike- 
ly that  any  one  present,  except  possibly  myself,  can 
know  just  how  Ralph  Rutherford  met  his  death.  The 
stories  published  in  a  prejudiced — ah — Northern  press 
were  most  erroneous.  It  was  at  the  time,  as  you  re- 
member, of  the  episode  in  the  Senate  chamber  in  which 
Senator  Sumner  and  Mr.  Brooks  figured — and  the 
Northern  press  was  notably  unjust — did  grievous 
injustice  to  a  gentleman  of  one  of  our  most  fa- 
mous families  in  the  South.  It  was  a  very  regret- 
table occurrence — that  of  the  meeting  between  Pres- 
ton and  Rutherford,  but,  ah — ah — entirely  unavoid- 
able through  Rutherford's  own  rashness." 

"/  know,  and  you  know  this,  Captain  Wallis,"  an- 
swered Hoyt,  and  his  voice  grew  firm  and  ringing, 
"Ralph  Rutherford  was  a  guest  at  the  club  at  Savan- 
nah at  the  time,  and  he  was  wantonly  insulted  by  a 
master  in  the  use  of  weapons  and  the  code  of  the 
duello.  Gordon,  his  friend,  and  his  mother's  kinsman, 
was  away  at  the  time,  and  he  had  none  to  counsel. 
He  did  just  what  the  fashion  of  the  day  demanded, 
and  was  shot  dead  at  sunrise  that  his  slayer  might  cut 
another  notch  in  the  stock  of  his  pistol!" 

"Leftenant   Hoyt!"  exclaimed   Miss   Brenham,   in 


26  A    BROKEN    SWORD. 

amaze  and  indignation.  "You  surely  do  not  be- 
lieve  " 

"Mr.  Hoyt,"  began  Wallis,,  half  rising  from  his 
chair,  "if — ah — the  story  reached  the  frontier  in  that 
form  it  is  high  time " 

But  Hoyt's  blood  was  up,  and  he  was  not  to  be  si- 
lenced. Awkward  as  was  the  situation;  embarrassing 
as  was  the  discussion  to  all  other  persons  present,  it 
had  gone  too  far  not  to  be  finished.  For  an  instant 
the  hostess  had  glanced  appealingly  at  Hoyt  as 
though  begging  him  to  refrain. 

"I  crave  your  pardon,  Mrs.  Leroy,"  said  he,  with 
instant  deference  and  regret.  "I  have  spoken  of  mat- 
ters I  wish  I  could  forget,  but  Ralph  Rutherford  was 
my  warmest  friend  before  I  went  to  the  Point  and 
when  I  was  on  leave  or  furlough,  and  I  never  rested 
till  I  got  the  facts.  Captain  Gordon,  who  made  thor- 
ough investigation,  and  Seabrooke,  now  cooped  up 
at  Sumter,  who  was  his  second,  both  wrote  me  full 
details.  I  wish  that  Haines  were  still  here  to  add 
further  confirmation,  as  I  know  he  could;  but,  if  Ralph 
Rutherford  had  fair  play,  why  did  the  Oglethorpe 
close  its  doors  to  Hugh  Preston?  Why  is  Preston  an 
exile  in  Paris  to  this  day?" 

"He's  not,  my  dear  fellow,"  answered  Wallis,  rais- 
ing his  claret  glass  to  the  light  and  critically  studying 
it  as  though  other  matters  were  of  little  moment. 
"He  is  home  at  this  minute  or  was — ah — a  week  ago." 

"Then  the  story  which  we  scouted  at  the  West 
Point  mess — that  he  dined  with  you  at  Delmonico's 


A    SIGNIFICANT    DISCUSSION.          27 

three  weeks  ago,  and  that  you  went  South  together, 
may  after  all  have  some  foundation/'  said  Hoyt,  his 
blue  eyes  blazing,  his  fingers  strumming  ominously. 

"And — if  it  have?"  said  Wallis,  with  utter  uncon- 
cern. 

The  strain  was  becoming  intolerable.  Miss  Bren- 
ham's  cheeks  were  burning;  her  eyes  were  ablaze  with 
angry  light.  All  attempts  on  the  part  of  the  house- 
hold to  start  conversation  on  other  topics  with  other 
members  of  the  party  had  fallen  flat.  The  sudden  en- 
trance of  the  butler  with  two  cards  on  a  tray  brought 
blessed  relief. 

"Mr.  Gerald  Rutherford,  Jr." 
"Mr.  Edward  Clayton  Barclay." 

read  the  hostess  aloud  and  with  infinite  gratitude. 
"Show  them  right  in  here,  Furness.  Why,  how  odd!" 
she  continued,  as  she  turned  in  her  chair.  "Yet — you 
said  Mrs.  Rutherford  was  quite  restored,  Mr.  Hoyt?" 
Almost  immediately  the  two  young  men  appeared 
at  the  folding  doors  that  opened  into  the  old-fash- 
ioned parlor,  embarrassment  on  both  faces.  This 
April  Sunday  seemed  destined  to  be  prolific  of  sen- 
sation— so  soft  and  warm  and  balmy  without  that  the 
butler  had  opened  the  long  windows  leading  to  the 
little  balcony  at  the  back  of  the  house,  and  the  lace 
curtains  were  fluttering  in  the  entering  breeze — so 
ominous  and  threatening  within  that,  like  pent  up 
electricity,  it  seemed  as  though  it  must  find  vent  in 


28  A    BROKEN    SWORD. 

flash  and  thunder.  Glad,  possibly  to  escape  from  the 
table  for  an  instant,  though  luncheon  was  not  yet 
over,  Mrs.  Leroy  had  risen  at  sight  of  these  two 
young  gentlemen,  both  prominent  in  society,  both 
members  of  old  and  distinguished  families.  She  ad- 
vanced upon  them  with  welcoming  hand,  and  each 
bowed  over  it  in  deep  respect  and  murmured  his  apol- 
ogy for  intrusion  at  such  a  moment. 

"The  butler  said  we  were  to  come  directly  here, 
Mrs.  Leroy,"  said  young  Rutherford,  his  straw-col- 
ored hair  making  vivid  contrast  with  his  blushing 
face.  "Oh!  thanks,  yes,  mother  is  much  better — quite 
herself  again !  The  sudden  heat,  you  know.  It — it's 
Ethel  that's  upset  now.  Will  you  pardon  me,  Mrs. 

Leroy,  but "  And  here  his  eyes,  that  had  flitted 

with  his  perfunctory,  embarrassed  bows  from  one  to 
another  of  the  assembled  party,  rested  full  on  Wallis. 
Like  their  mother,  the  daughters  had  risen  to  greet 
the  newcomers.  Lieutenant  Hoyt,  too,  was  on  his 
feet;  while  Frederick,  a  college  boy  of  nineteen,  the 
only  male  member  of  the  household  present,  had  has- 
tened round  the  table  and  was  hospitably  shaking 
hands  with  Barclay,  who  still  hung  back  at  the  fold- 
ing doors,  looking,  if  anything,  more  perturbed  than 
Rutherford. 

"Ethel!"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Leroy.  "Nothing  seri- 
ous, I  hope.  You  weren't  looking  for  Dr.  Tracy?" 

"No;  the  doctor  isn't  needed.  The  fact  is  she 
dropped  a  silk  bag — that  reticule  thing  you  may  have 
seen  her  carry — and  Captain  Wallis  was  so — so  kind 


A   SIGNIFICANT   DISCUSSION.         29 

as  to  return  it,  but — some  of  the  contents  are  miss- 
ing— some  to  which  she  attached  peculiar  impor-^ 
tance,  and  she  begged  me  to  find  the  Captain  at  once 
and  ask  if  by  any  possibility  they  could  have  dropped 
out  or — whether  the  bag  was  open  or — closed  when 
he  found  it." 

"Closed  to  a  certainty!"  answered  Wallis,  prompt- 
ly, positively,  and  without  a  shade  of  the  airy,  blase, 
cynical  manner  that  was  his  odd  characteristic.  One 
would  have  said  his  interest  and  sympathy  had  been 
instantly  enlisted. 

"And  you — pardon  me — could  it  have  become— 
open,  you  know — it  was  only  closed  by  a  silken  cord 
— open  while  you  had  it?" 

"Hardly  possible,  Mr.  Rutherford,"  promptly  an- 
swered Wallis.  "I  thrust  it  into  the  inside  pocket  of 
my  overcoat — may  the  butler  fetch  it  here,  Mrs.  Le- 
roy?  and  I  handed  it  intact,  I  think,  to  Mr.  Barclay 
to  deliver  to  Miss  Rutherford.  But  we'll  search  at 
once.  What  are  missing? — some  items  of — ah — 
jewelry?" 

"Some  papers,. rather,  I  infer  from  what  she  says," 
answered  Rutherford. 

"Very  odd  indeed!  Such  things  could  not  easily 
drop  from  a  bag  like  that.  You  had  it,  Barclay,  for 
some  minutes  after  I  left.  Did  you — ah — feel  any- 
thing like  papers  in  it?" 

Barclay  still  stood  at  the  folding  doors.  He  had 
not  advanced  beyond  them.  His  face  was  pallid,  his 
lips  were  compressed,  but  at  the  abrupt  question,  that 


30  A    BROKEN    SWORD. 

turned  all  eyes  upon  him,  the  color  rushed  to  his  very 
brows  and  he  started  forward  a  full  pace  before  he 
answered: — 

"I?  I  never  had  occasion  to  touch  It!  You  laid  it 
on  the  center  table  as  you  went  away,  and  there  it  lay 
until  Miss  Rutherford  came  down  and  herself  picked 
it  up." 

"How  very  strange!"  said  Wallis,  now  rummaging 
in  the  pockets  of  the  natty,  silk-lined,  light  drab  over- 
coat then  in  vogue  for  Easter  weather.  "Do  you 
know — I — ah — would  have  gone  to  my  next  station 
with  the  absolute  conviction  that  I  had  placed  that 
reticule  in  your  hands." 


CHAPTER   III. 

A    REPRIMAND    SPOILED. 

THE  news  of  the  fall  of  Sumter — the  affront  to 
the  flag — came  to  the  men  of  the  North  like 
a  slap  in  the  face.    New  York  City  blazed  with  instant 
patriotism.    Every  staff,  spire,  tower  and  public  build- 
ing threw  to  the  breeze  the  stars  and  stripes.     Bunt- 
ing within  twenty-four  hours  commanded  a  fabulous 
price,  and  Broadway  went  mad  in  a  riot  of  brilliant 
hues.    Men  and  women — even  children — who  did  not 
wear  in  some  outward  form  the  badge  of  loyalty  to 
the  nation  were  not  infrequently  called  on  to  "show 
their  colors."    And  those  who  had  dared  to  wear,  al- 
\  most  unrebuked,  the  miniature  flag  of  secession,  dared 
I  no  longer,  for  the  North  was  roused  at  last. 

Even  at  "Southern  Headquarters,"  as  they  now 
•  called  Cranston's  famous  old  red-brick  hostelry — even 
in  their  delirious  hour  of  temporary  triumph — men 
spoke  with  bated  breath  and  cautious  tone.  The  an- 
gering eyes  of  the  throng  on  the  street  without  boded 
ill  for  the  peace  and  security  of  those  within,  and 
there  was  wisdom  in  the  whispered  order  that  sent 
a  strong  detachment  of  detectives  in  plain  clothes  to 
hover  about  the  obnoxious  building,  while  in  doubled 
numbers  the  Metropolitan  police  kept  the  crowds 

31 


32  A    BROKEN    SWORD. 

moving  and  broke  up  incipient  mobs.     Given  half  a 
chance,  and  a  leader,  there  is  little  doubt  that  the  hotel 
would  have  been  rendered  untenable  as  Sumter — and 
in  far  less  time.     On  the  almost  summerlike  Sunday 
preceding  the  bombardment  it  was  considered  safe,  as 
it  was  saucy,  for  men  and  women  both  to  sport  the 
"stars  and  bars."     There  had  been  something  fine, 
daring  and  defiant  about  it  to  the  mind  of  the  un- 
thinking, but,  in  the  twinkling  of  an  eye,  all  this  was 
changed.    There  were  women,  of  course,  who,  relying 
upon  the  immunity  of  the  sex  and  the  chivalry  of 
American  manhood,  did  not  scruple  to  appear  at  cer- 
tain   social   functions    still    wearing    their    cherished 
badge  and  talking  bravely  of  the  wrongs  and  the 
determination  of  the  South.     But  Southern  sympa- 
thizers who  read  the  signs  aright  stood  astounded, 
if  not  dismayed,  at  such  overwhelming  evidence  of 
loyalty  to  the  old  flag.    This  was  not  what  leaders  of 
the  Northern  Democracy  had  promised.    The  masses, 
as  well  as  the  elect,  were  filled  with  sudden  craze  for 
action,  when  but  the  week  gone  by  they  seemed  pas- 
sive and  inert.     So  far  from  submitting  to  the  will  of 
the  South,  the  people  had  risen  in  a  passion  of  pro- 
test; and,  all  too  late,  the  leaders  of  secession  found 
that,  cold,  dull,  undemonstrative  as  it  had  appeared, 
the  Northland  loved  the  Union  with  a  devotion  all 
the  deeper  for  its  silence,  and  that  it  would  fight  for 
what  it  loved,  relentless,  and  to  the  bitter  end.     At 
the  New  York  Club  the  situation  had  been  epito- 
mized in  two  sentences: 


A    REPRIMAND    SPOILED.  33 

"Nothing  short  of  a  miracle  will  make  the  average 
Yankee  fight,"  said  Wallis,  the  very  day  that  brought 
the  news. 

"And  nothing  short  of  annihilation  will  make  him 
quit,"  was  the  spirited  reply. 

On  Saturday,  the  I3th  of  April,  the  flag  was  low- 
ered on  the  battered  walls  of  Sumter.  On  Monday, 
the  1 5th,  it  was  hoisted  by  tens  of  thousands  all  over 
the  North,  and  the  President  called  for  seventy-five 
thousand  volunteers  to  defend  it.  Seventy-five  thou- 
sand!— when  by  hundreds  of  thousands,  untaught, 
untried,  but  firm  and  resolute,  the  men  of  the  North 
sprang  to  arms  and  almost  fought  for  the  privilege 
to  be  first  in  the  fight  for  the  flag.  On  Tuesday  the 
loyal  States  were  wiring  their  pledges  of  fealty  and 
their  promises  of  troops.  On  Wednesday  the  drum 
beat  was  heard  in  every  armory  in  the  Northern 
cities,  and  the  regiments  of  New  England  and  the 
Middle  States  were  mustering  for  battle.  In  their 
quaint,  high,  old-fashioned  shakos  and  long  blue  over- 
coats, the  thronging  ranks  of  the  Sixth  and  Eighth 
Massachusetts  marched  through  New  York,  cheered 
and  feted  by  countless  multitudes.  Through  dense 
masses  of  humanity,  women  weeping,  men  hoarsely 
shouting,  New  York's  magnificent  Seventh,  first  of- 
fering of  the  Empire  State,  strode  down  Broadway 
to  the  Cortlandt  Ferry,  and  were  lost  in  the  darkness 
of  the  Jersey  shore.  In  all  its  history  Gotham  had 
never  known  such  a  day.  The  flower  of  its  young 
manhood,  the  best  blood,  the  oldest  names,  the  first 


34  A    BROKEN    SWORD. 

families  were  represented  on  the  rolls.  The  night 
that  followed  was  not  one  for  merrymaking.  Even  in 
the  homes  of  well-known  Southern  sympathizers — 
even  in  the  mansion  of  a  family  but  recently  removed 
from  the  Gulf  coast  and  introduced  to  society  through 
the  medium  of  Brown's  list  and  a  big  ball — lights 
were  turned  low,  curtains  were  drawn.  There  was 
that  in  the  air  that  prompted  caution,  and  invitations 
to  even  quiet  home  gatherings  had  been  recalled.  A 
Columbia  senior  who  had  strutted  the  length  of  Fifth 
Avenue  the  week  before,  thumbs  in  the  armholes  of 
his  waistcoat  and  the  badge  of  Georgia  on  his  breast, 
stood  close  mouthed  and  as  close  buttoned  in  his 
snug-fitting  sack  coat  at  the  corner  of  Fourteenth 
Street,  the  device  of  the  "Delta  Sigs"  upon  his  lapel, 
but  indecision  in  his  breast.  It  was  the  night  for  their 
regular  meeting,  but  even  fraternal  relations  had 
seemed  strained  since  the  firing  on  the  Star  of  the 
West,  and  now  stood  threatened  with  open  rupture. 
Fifth  Avenue  was  still  alive  with  people,  moving  rest- 
lessly hither  and  yon;  and  as  the  young  student  gazed 
uneasily  about  him,  half  stunned  by  the  outpouring 
that  boded  ill  for  "the  States  in  rebellion,"  he  could 
count  within  the  radius  of  a  single  block  no  less  than 
a  dozen  homes  within  whose  portals  he  had  been  a 
welcome  visitor  but  the  month  before,  from  within 
whose  portals  there  had  gone  that  day  sons  and 
brothers  in  the  uniform  of  the  Seventh.  How  could 
they  welcome  him  to-night? — he,  who,  Northern  born 
and  bred,  had  lost  his  heart  in  the  Sunny  South,  and 


A    REPRIMAND    SPOILED.  35 

for  the  sake  of  the  girl  who  won  it,  had  apparently 
lost  his  head! 

Halted  there,  nervous,  troubled,  irresolute,  he 
started  when  a  hand  was  passed  within  his  arm — a 
slender  little  hand,  daintily  gloved — and,  whirling 
about,  he  pulled  off  his  Amidon  cap,  the  college  head- 
gear of  the  day,  and  bowed,  with  ill-concealed  agi- 
tation. There  stood  Ethel  Rutherford,  leaning  on 
the  arm  of  the  blue-eyed  officer  he  had  met  at  the 
Leroys,  and  Ethel's  fair  face  was  full  of  sadness. 

"  I  so  hoped  you'd  come  this  evening,  Jimmy,"  said 
she,  in  low,  gentle  tone.  "You  and  poor  Gerald  were 
such  friends.  You  know  Mr.  Hoyt,  I  think,"  whereat 
the  cavalryman  gravely  touched  his  hat,  but  sent  the 
hand  no  further.  "Mother,  too,  would  be  so  glad  if 
you  could  come  in  and  comfort  him." 

"I  didn't  know — or,  rather,  I  supposed — of  course, 
he'd " 

"Gone  with  his  regiment? — Gerald? — Why,  Jimmy! 
Hadn't  you  heard?"  and  Miss  Rutherford's  pretty  lips 
were  twitching  piteously.  "He's  almost  heartbroken," 
she  went  on,  presently,  striving  to  control  herself. 
"Mother  swooned  when  he  told  her  the  Seventh  were 
ordered  off,  and  that  meant  him,  too,  and  then — oh, 
I  can't  talk  of  it  here! — but  Dr.  Tracy  solemnly  de- 
clared it  would  kill  her  if  he  went,  and  he's  locked 
himself  in  his  own  room.  Can't  you  go  to  him?" 

"I'd  go,  Miss  Rutherford,  if— if-  But  he'll  no 
more  see  me  than — anybody!"  answered  Granger,  in 
deep  embarrassment;  then,  plunging  further  into  the 


36  A    BROKEN    SWORD. 

mire,  haplessly  added,  "Can't  Barclay —  Oh,  I  beg 
pardon!" 

Even  in  the  dim  light  they  saw  the  swift  color 
mantle  her  cheek.  "Mr.  Barclay  has  gone  with  the 
Seventh.  That's  what  makes  it  even  harder  per- 
haps," said  she. 

"Why,  I  didn't  know  he  belonged  to  the  Seventh!" 
began  Granger,  grateful  for  anything  to  turn  the  talk 
to  less  trying  topics. 

"He  didn't.  He  went  in  Gerald's  place — almost  in 
his  shoes,"  she  answered,  with  an  attempt  at  gaiety. 
"At  least  he  wore  Gerald's  overcoat.  He  couldn't 
begin  to  button  his  gray  jacket  around  him.  You  will 
come,  won't  you?  Listen,  I'm  going  for  Lorna  now. 
Mother's  almost  crying  to  see  her." 

Up  to  this  moment  Lieutenant  Hoyt  had  been 
standing  in  civil,  patient  silence,  yet  the  light  cane 
he  carried  was  switching  nervously.  Now  he  sud- 
denly spoke.  "Pardon  me,  Miss  Rutherford,  if  I  sug- 
gest that  now  you  might  accomplish  both  ends  in 
one.  Why  not  let  Mr.  Granger  bear  your  mother's 
message,  and  be  Miss  Brenham's  escort?" 

"Oh,  would  you,  Jimmy?"  asked  Miss  Rutherford, 
impulsively,  eagerly,  and  Granger's  sombre  eyes 
looked  up  in  quick  suspicion.  "It  is  only  to  Sixteenth 
Street,  but,  of  course,  you  know — and  really  I  ought 
to  hasten  back  to  mother,"  was  her  hurried  explana- 
tion. 

"I'll  bear  the  message  and  offer  my  services  with 
pleasure,"  said  Granger,  trying  hard  not  to  show 


A    REPRIMAND    SPOILED.  37. 

with  how  much  pleasure,  "but — will  you? — do  you 
think  Gerald  will  care  to  see  me?" 

"Come  in — anyway,"  was  the  answer,  as  they 
parted,  and  Granger,  hurrying  on  his  mission,  came 
face  to  face  at  the  very  next  corner  with  Captain 
Wallis  whom,  in  his  haste  and  eagerness,  he  would 
gladly  have  avoided.  Wallis  was  dressed  with  even 
more  than  the  usual  care,  and  wore  at  his  buttonhole 
a  little  knot  of  ribbon  in  the  national  colors*  Granger 
would  have  passed  him  by  with  only  a  nod,  but  the 
elder  and  brainier  man  willed  it  otherwise,  and  barred 
his  path. 

"What,  what,  what!"  he  cried,  in  feigned  dis- 
pleasure. "A  Granger — and  undecorated  with  the 
red,  white  and  blue!  Whither  away,  lad? — and  why 
this  haste? — and  why  no  colors?  Have  we  not  all  to 
show  the  symbol  of  our  serfdom  to  Uncle  Sam?" 

"I  don't  believe  in  wearing  my  heart  upon  my 
sleeve,  nor  in  being  compelled  to  show  my  colors, 
Captain  Wallis,"  answered  Granger,  petulantly.  "I 
am  on  an  errand  for  Mrs.  Rutherford,  and  must 
hurry." 

"I  only  stopped  you  because  if  I  don't  a  dozen  will, 
James,  my  lad.  Follow  my  advice — and  example. 
Swing  your  colors  on  the  outer  wall !  What's  the  odds, 
my  boy? — they're  the  same  for  both  sides!"  and  then 
Granger  realized  that  the  captain  had  been  dining 
lavishly,  for  he  swayed  slightly  and  his  eyes  were 
clouded.  "For  Mrs.  Rutherford,  said  you,  James,  and 
lo  you  return  thither  ?" 


38  A    BROKEN    SWORD. 

"Presently — possibly,  at  least,  Captain  Wallis;  and 
now,  if  you'll  excuse  me " 

"Not  now  so  easily  as  I  will  a  bit  later,  James,  if 
you  happen  to  be  there  when  I  am  announced.  You 
needn't  mention  it,  of  course,  but  just  then,  Jimmy, 
you  emulate  your  bi-bilical  namesake,  and  be  one 
James  the  less.  Pardon  the  bluntness  of  the  soldier, 
Jimmy.  Au  revoir" 

But,  in  anger  now,  young  Granger  had  brushed  by 
and  disappeared  among  the  moving  groups  along  the 
avenue.  Wallis  looked  after  him  a  moment,  an  almost 
scornful  smile  on  his  handsome,  highbred  face;  then 
glanced  at  his  watch  and  went  sauntering  southward. 
He  was  in  civilian  dress,  for  even  in  those  days  one 
rarely  saw  Harold  Wallis  in  the  garb  of  his  profession 
except  on  parade  or  officer-of-the-day  duty  at  the  Island. 
Ever  since  the  return  of  the  Star  of  the  West  from 
her  luckless  attempt  to  reinforce  Major  Anderson  in 
Charleston  Harbor  an  unusual  number  of  officers  and 
men  had  been  camped  or  quartered  about  Fort  Co- 
lumbus and  Castle  William.  Duty  had  been  light,  and 
the  officers  had  spent  much  time  in  town.  They  came 
by  twos  or  threes  as  a  rule,  the  exception  being  in  the 
case  of  Wallis.  He  preferred  to  cruise  alone.  A  fluent 
talker,  a  man  of  travel,  information,  some  reading,  and 
ready  wit;  gifted  with  a  fine  presence  and  admirable 
self  poise  and  possession;  above  all,  with  that  quality 
which  tells  in  social  as  it  does  in  business  life,  and  which 
we  call  push,  Harold  Wallis,  despite  his  cynicism,  his 
apparent  disdain  of  his  profession,  his  brother  officers 


A    REPRIMAND    SPOILED.  39 

and  especially  his  superiors,  was  more  sought  after  in 
society,  bidden  to  more  dinners  and  dances,  than  any 
man  of  his  cloth  in  that  day  and  generation ;  this,  too, 
after  men  at  the  Union  Club  had  begun  to  "cold 
shoulder"  him,  and  others  to  look  askance.  He  was  a 
favorite  among  the  women,  especially  the  younger 
matrons,  and  that  established  him.  "A  squire  of 
dames"  they  called  him  in  the  Seventh.  Earnest 
amateurs  were  they  at  the  old  armory  over  Tompkins 
Market,  and  liked  not  his  lofty  contempt  or  gay  disdain 
for  all  the  details  of  the  military  art,  the  more  so  because 
even  his  enemies  in  the  Army,  and  they  were  many, 
were  fain  to  admit  that  he  was  a  master.  Wallis  was  a 
brilliant  officer,  a  rare  commander  on  the  drill  ground 
when  he  once  drew  sword,  a  graceful,  admirable  horse- 
man, a  keen  shot  with  the  old  dueling  pistols  he  cher- 
ished among  his  possessions,  an  agile  swordsman,  a 
rather  friendly  and  considerate  fellow  among  the  young 
officers,  but  a  veritable  thorn  in  the  flesh  of  all  the 
seniors. 

Even  in  the  week  of  gloom  that  preceded  the  fall  of 
the  flag  at  Sumter,  Gotham  was  laughing  over  the  story 
told  of  Wallis  and  an  irate,  if  only  temporary,  post 
commander.  The  colonel,  whom  even  Wallis  held  in  re- 
spect, had  been  summoned  to  Washington,  and  his  man- 
tle had  fallen  for  the  time,  at  least,  on  the  shoulders 
of  a  testy,  yet  most  worthy  veteran  who  couldn't  bear 
Wallis,  nor  could  his  buxom  better  half,  and  for  excel- 
lent reason.  Both  knew  they  were  the  butt  of  his  shafts 
of  wit  and  ridicule ;  both  had  many  an  ancient  grudge 


40  A    BROKEN    SWORD. 

against  him,  yet  neither  had  ever  been  able  to  penetrate 
the  armor  of  his  self  esteem  or  to  say  or  do  a  thing 
potent  enough  to  bear  him  the  least  annoy.  The  oppor- 
tunity seemed  to  have  come  at  last,  however,  when 
Wallis,  who  had  gone  over  to  town  right  after  inspec- 
tion on  the  previous  Sunday,  failed  to  return  that  night, 
and  did  not  report  his  return  until  late  Monday  after- 
noon, when  he  sauntered  into  the  mess  room  accoutred 
for  parade.  Everybody  knew  the  major  had  marked  his 
absence  at  orderly  hour.  The  morning  report  of  his 
company,  too,  was  signed  by  the  first  lieutenant.  The 
post  commander  sent  to  see  if  he  were  at  his  quarters 
and  portentously  left  orders  with  the  adjutant  that 
Captain  Wallis  should  report  to  him  in  person  the 
moment  he  appeared.  This  order  was  duly  intrusted 
to  the  officer  of  the  guard,  and  that  efficient  subaltern 
kept  his  eye  on  every  boat  that  landed  at  the  dock 
throughout  the  day,  and  was  ready  to  swear  Captain 
Wallis  was  not  on  the  Island,  when,  in  full  uniform  and 
utter  unconcern,  that  gentleman  issued  from  his  quar- 
ters and  strolled  to  the  mess. 

"The  major  left  orders  you  were  to  report  at  his 
quarters  the  moment  you  returned,  Captain  Wallis," 
said  the  adjutant,  who  loved  him  not. 

"Did  he?"  said  Wallis,  poising  a  brimming  glass  of 
sherry  between  him  and  the  light,  a  pet  trick  of  his 
when  assailed.  "How  thoughtless  our  youngsters  are 
becoming!  Now,  that  is  the  very  first  intimation  I 
have  received,  and  there  goes  the  drum  for  parade — 
and  likewise  the  major !" 


A    REPRIMAND    SPOILED.  41 

"Didn't  Hammond  tell  you?"  queried  the  adjutant, 
suspicious  and  unmollified. 

"Hammond — Hammond?"  said  Wallis,  reflectively. 
"Where  should  I  be  apt  to  encounter  Hammond  ?" 

"At  the  dock  on  your  return.  He  was  ordered  to  see 
every  boat  and  not  half  an  hour  ago  declared  he  had 
done  so." 

"And  didn't  see  me?  Quite  remarkable!  Oh,  ah, 
Foster,"  he  continued,  in  his  imperturbable  way,  "what 
time  was  it  when  you  were  so  inconsiderate  as  to  in- 
vade my  sanctum  and  rouse  me  from  sleep?" 

"Two  o'clock,"  said  the  officer  addressed,  with  ob- 
vious disquiet.  He  had  bounced  in,  confident  that 
Wallis  was  still  away,  and  eager  to  confirm  his  theory 
of  Wallis's  continued  absence,,  and  there  had  found  him 
enjoying  a  siesta  on  his  sofa,  and  had  tiptoed  back  to 
his  own  den,  hopeful  that  he  had  been  undetected,  yet 
much  discomfited. 

All  the  garrison  folk  seemed  gathered  at  the  edge  of 
the  grassy  parade  that  evening.  The  word  had  gone 
forth  that  martial  retribution  awaited  the  debonair  cap- 
tain of  the  color  company,  and  that  the  major  meant 
to  overhaul  him  in  the  presence  of  the  assembled  officers 
the  moment  the  parade  was  dismissed.  Indeed  the  ma- 
jor's wife  had  said  so  to  more  than  one,  and  was  there 
to  supervise.  The  men  in  the  long  blue  ranks  wondered 
why  the  major  cut  out  so  much  of  his  favorite  act  of 
putting  them  through  the  manual,  and  the  plumed  line 
of  officers  as  it  marched  to  the  front  and  flourished  its 
white-gloved  fists  in  front  of  the  burly  commander,  lis- 


42  A    BROKEN    SWORD. 

tened  with  quickened  pulses  to  the  first  words  from  his 
lips  as  he  acknowledged  their  salute. 

"Gentlemen,  you  will  remain  a  moment.  Captain 
Wallis,  your  permission  to  visit  the  city  expired  at  mid- 
night, I  believe?" 

"At  midnight,  Major  Blunt,"  responded,  with  utter 
suavity,  a  voice  from  the  center  of  the  group. 

"You  have  been  absent  without  leave  then  from  that 
time  to  this?" 

"With  the  exception  of  a  few  unimportant  hours,  and 
without — your  leave,  yes,  sir."  And  still  was  the 
languid  utterance  placid  and  composed ;  the  manner 
calm,  imperturbable,  yet  almost  insolent  in  its  un- 
concern. 

"You  failed  to  report  at  my  quarters,  as  ordered,  on 
your  return,"  said  the  major,  bristling  with  rising 
wrath. 

"I  must  plead  total  ignorance  of  the  honor  of  the  in- 
vitation, major." 

"Didn't  you  see  the  officer  of  the  guard?"  was  the 
instant  query. 

"Once,  at  least,  quite  distinctly,  major,  as  I  passed 
the  dock.  He  appeared — ah — absorbed  in  receiving  the 
arrivals  from  town."* 

"You  mean  you  didn't  land  there?"  demanded  the 
major,  with  sudden  suspicion.  "No  boat  is  permitted 
to  land  anywhere  else,  sir."  And  now  in  his  just  indig- 
nation the  honest  old  soldier  was  losing  his  head.  "Do 
you  wish  me  to  suppose  you  swam  back,  Captain 
Wallis?" 


A    REPRIMAND    SPOILED.  43 

"'I  should  rather  you  thought  that,  major,  than  that  I 
— ah — would  be  willingly  absent  without  leave.  Lean- 
der,  as  you  doubtless  remember,  swam  the  Hellespont. 
Why  should  not  I  attempt  the  Buttermilk  Channel  if 
need  be?" 

But  the  major  didn't  remember.  Long  years  on  the 
frontier  and  in  the  line  had  left  him  innocent  of  classical 
lore.  There  was  but  one  explanation  of  this  remark — 
Wallis  was  poking  fun  at  him ;  and  the  soul  of  the  vet- 
eran took  fire  at  once.  In  vehement  words,  audible 
even  to  the  group  of  listening  women  under  the  trees 
at  the  edge  of  the  parade,  he  proceeded  to  stern  and  ring- 
ing reprimand.  He  declared  that  the  captain  had  put 
intentional  slight  upon  him  as  post  commander.  He 
denounced  his  absence  as  unsoldierly  and  inexcusable. 
He  sharply  forbade  the  captain  to  utter  a  word  until  he 
had  finished,  for,  perhaps  purposely,  Wallis  essayed  to 
interrupt,  and  finally  the  major  wound  up  by  saying: 
"Strictly  speaking,  you  should  be  placed  in  arrest  at 
once,  but  as  I  am  merely  in  command  for  the  day,  I 
shall  report — and  you  can  explain — your  misconduct  to 
the  colonel  himself  to-morrow." 

For  an  instant  the  silence  that  followed  this  impetu- 
ous outburst  was  unbroken.  Then,  civil,  courteous, 
placid  apparently  as  before,  Captain  Wallis  finally 
spoke. 

"Is — ah — that  all,  major?" 

"All,  sir  ?  Yes,  sir ;  and  a  serious  matter  you'll  find 
it!  That's  enough  for  the  present." 

"As   you   please,    major,"    responded    the   captain, 


44  A    BROKEN    SWORD. 

calmly  lifting  his  black-plumed  "Kosciusko"  and  glanc- 
ing inquiringly  about  him.  Then,  to  the  amaze  of  the 
group,  with  polite  interest  in  his  tone,  turned  once  more 
to  the  irate  soldier  and  languidly  said  :  "I  trust,  major, 
that — ah — Mrs.  Blunt  is  well  this  evening." 

It  is  hard  to  say  who  was  the  more  amazed,  the  major 
in  command  or  the  officers  within  hearing.  The  former 
simply  stood  and  glared  a  moment.  Then  with  some- 
thing between  a  sniff  and  a  snort,  turned  abruptly  away, 
confounded. 

The  consensus  of  opinion  on  the  Island  was  that  Wal- 
lis  deserved  instant  trial  for  disrespect  to  his  superior. 
The  confusion  of  the  cabal  of  his  opponents  was  inde- 
scribable when,  on  the  following  morning,  came  a  cour- 
teous letter  from  the  distinguished  commander  of  the 
Brooklyn  Navy  Yard.  In  hearty  words  he  begged  leave 
to  express  his  appreciation  of  the  gallant  and  invaluable 
services  rendered  by  Captain  Harold  Wallis  to  some  of 
his  men  on  Sunday  night,  and  with  the  hope  that  the 
captain  had  sustained  no  ill  effects  from  his  exposure 
and  involuntary  plunge,  subscribed  himself  the  most 
obedient  servant  of  the  commanding  officer. 

Then  poor  Hammond,  who  had  been  getting  a  rasp- 
ing for  not  delivering  an  order  to  a  man  he  had  not  seen, 
asked  for  justice  at  the  hands  of  the  colonel  on  that 
officer's  return  and  got  it.  Wallis  was  sent  for  and 
placidly  explained  that  on  his  way  to  the  Whitehall 
Ferry,  late  at  night,  he  heard  sounds  of  mingled  riot  and 
revelry ;  found  some  sailors  at  the  water's  edge  in  a  row 
with  the  boatmen,  "and  got  wet  hauling  one  of  them  out 


A    REPRIMAND    SPOILED.  45 

of  the  river."  A  boat  shoved  off  from  the  Minnesota, 
anchored  off  the  Battery,  and  took  them  all  aboard. 
There  Wallis  spent  the  rest  of  the  night  until  his  clothes 
were  dried,  and  the  ship's  tailor  in  the  morning  had  done 
his  best.  Then  the  captain's  gig,  after  breakfast,  set 
him  ashore  under  the  guns  of  the  fort  and  close  to  his 
quarters  instead  of  at  the  stairs,  for  navy  boats  could 
land  where  they  pleased.  Not  until  later  was  it  known 
that  Wallis  had  swum  to  save  a  drowning  blue- jacket, 
helpless  through  drink,  but  his  absence  was  fully  ac- 
counted for  now.  Asked  why  he  had  not  explained  it  to 
Major  Blunt,  he,  with  incomparable  ease,  replied  that 
the  major  had  refused  to  listen,  which  was  true.  As 
for  the  major's  reprimand,  Wallis  did  not  say,  but  none 
the  less  vividly  showed,  that  it  gave  him  no  concern 
whatsoever. 

And  this  story  was  going  the  rounds  of  Gotham  up 
to  the  moment  of  the  dread  news  that  South  Carolina 
had  loosed  her  guns  on  Sumter.  Then  it  might  have 
been  forgotten  but  for  a  something  that  took  place  this 
very  night  at  the  Rutherfords'. 

Just  as  Ethel  said,  Gerald  had  locked  himself  in  his 
room,  a  martyr  to  motherly  anxiety  and  boyish  despair. 
Ever  since  the  tragic  death  of  her  first-born  Mrs. 
Rutherford  had  seemed  to  cling  with  passionate  inten- 
sity to  Gerald.  Time  and  again  by  night  she  would 
steal  to  his  room  and  assure  herself  he  was  there  and 
safely  sleeping.  Time  and  again  by  day  she  would  sit 
and  wait  and  watch  for  him,  grudging  the  hours  he  gave 
to  college  and  to  his  few  amusements,  and  taking  com- 


46  A    BROKEN    SWORD. 

fort  in  his  association  with  the  Seventh  Regiment, 
because  there,  at  least,  she  could  go  and  watch  him  at 
drill.  Never  for  a  moment  had  it  occurred  to  her  that 
in  all  that  martial  training  there  was  purpose  sterner 
than  mere  pomp  and  parade,  and  her  weakened  heart 
well  nigh  stopped  short  at  the  amazing  news  that  the 
regiment  was  ordered  into  active  service — that  within 
the  week  it  might  clash  with  Georgia. 

"I  tell  you  solemnly,"  said  Dr.  Tracy,  to  the  almost 
desperate  boy,  "it  may  kill  your  mother  if  you  do  not 
promise  her  not  to  go."  It  seemed  the  next  thing  to 
dishonor  and  disgrace,  but  he  gave  the  promise  on  his 
knees;  then,  refusing  to  be  comforted,  turned  wretch- 
edly away.  It  was  something,  at  least,  that  almost  at 
the  last  moment  Ned  Barclay  came  bounding  in,  wildly 
eager,  to  beg  for  Gerald's  uniform  and  his  place.  They 
had  ten  minutes'  talk  together  alone,  and  then  Barclay 
was  gone  and  poor  Gerald  had  later  buried  his  head 
beneath  the  pillows  that  he  might  not  hear  the  dis- 
tant roar  of  cheers  that  rolled  down  Broadway  with 
the  mighty  striding  column  of  that  splendid  com- 
mand. 

That  evening  he  yielded  to  Ethel's  pleading  and  let 
her  in.  "You  must  come  and  see  mother  a  little  while," 
she  cried.  "Lorna  Brenham  and  Jim  Granger  have  just 
gone.  I'm  so  sorry  you  couldn't  see  them — and  Captain 
Wallis  was  here  before  they  came,  but  he  seemed  so  odd 
— excited — flighty,  I  don't  know  what, — and  Mr.  Hoyt 
and  he  left  together  while  I  was  taking  Lorna  up  to 
mother's  room.  Jimmy  couldn't  explain  it.  The  cap- 


A    REPRIMAND    SPOILED.  47 

tain  seemed  determined  to  see — you.  Has  he — has  he 
heard  anything,  do  you  think,  of — what  was  lost  from 
my  bag?" 

"It  isn't  that  he  came  to  tell,"  said  Gerald,  fiercely. 
"I'll  see  him  any  time,  and  the  sooner  the  better,  and 
I  want  to  see  Bernard  Hoyt,  he  was  Ralph's  best 
friend.  I  want  to  see  him  this  very  night.  I  must 
see  him !" 

But  neither  Hoyt  nor  Wallis  could  Gerald  see  alone 
that  night.  Ethel,  with  Lieutenant  Hoyt,  was  seated  in 
the  parlor,  it  seems,  when  Wallis  was  ushered  in.  They 
had  but  just  returned,  and  hardly  had  the  senior  officer 
begun  to  speak  when  Hoyt  turned  quickly,  and  the  keen 
blue  eyes  looked  him  sternly  over.  Wallis  winced  un- 
der the  scrutiny  and  became  even  more  elaborate  and 
effusive  in  speech  and  manner,  much  to  Ethel's  per- 
plexity, for  she  little  liked  him.  Then,  when  Miss 
Brenham  arrived  he  overwhelmed  her  with  lavish  greet- 
ing and  inquiries  after  kindred  in  the  South,  to  the  end 
that  she  speedily  broke  away  and  begged  to  be  shown  at 
once  to  Mrs.  Rutherford.  "Will  you  excuse  me  a  mo- 
ment ?"  said  Ethel  to  the  three  men,  and  left  them  in  the 
parlor. 

Granger  was  there  alone  when  she  returned,  and 
Granger  was  visibly  embarrassed,  for  no  sooner  had  the 
ladies  left  the  room  than  Lieutenant  Hoyt  stepped  up 
to  Wallis. 

"Captain,"  said  he,  "my  rooms  are  but  a  few  steps 
away  in  Eleventh  Street.  I  have  telegraphic  orders  to 
be  in  readiness  to  report  for  special  duty  at  once.  There 


48  A    BROKEN    SWORD. 

will  be  no  time  to-morrow,  and  what  I  have  to  say  is 
of  importance.  Will  you  come  with  me  at  once?" 
Then,  with  quick,  significant  glance  toward  Granger,  "I 
cannot  tell  you  here." 

"Really — Mr. — ah — Hoyt,"  began  Wallis,  swaying 
slightly  as  he  spoke,  and  the  heavily  fringed  lids  half 
closing,  "I  should  much  prefer  an  hour  hence." 

"So  you  said  the  night  of  that  episode  at  the  Planters' 
in  St.  Louis,  Captain  Wallis.  Now  I  have  a  letter  that 
you  should  see " 

"Oh,  as  you  like — as  you  like,  Hoyt,"  answered 
Wallis,  airily.  "Ah,  Granger,  dear  boy,  never  mind 
being  James  the  Less  just  now.  Oblige  me  by  saying 
to  Miss  Rutherford  that  I  shall  return  in  ten  minutes. 
After  you — ah — Mr.  Hoyt." 

But  at  Hoyt's  doorway  stood  Lieutenant  Hammond 
in  uniform.  "I  have  been  searching  the  clubs  for  you, 
Captain  Wallis,"  said  he.  "You  are  ordered  to  report 
to  the  Adjutant  General  at  Washington  without  delay. 
The  orders  came  this  evening." 

"Poco  tiempo — poco  tiempo,  my  dear  fellow.  Come 
in — come  in  with  us,  Hoyt's  going  to  open  his  heart 
—and  a  bottle  of  Sillery.  There's  no  train  now 
before  morning,  and  that — that'll  never  get  through 
Bal'more." 

Hoyt  turned  on  him  like  a  flash,  his  blue  eyes  blazing. 
"Who  will  stop  it?"  demanded  he,  "and  how  do  you 
come  to  know  it?  Mr.  Hammond,  I  am  not  going  to 
open  a  bottle  of  Sillery,  and  you  can  see  why ;  but  I'll 
open  my  heart  to  this  extent.  I  say  to  this  officer,"  and 


A    REPRIMAND    SPOILED.  49 

again  he  turned  on  Wallis — "to  you,  Captain  Wallis, 
that  those  words  shall  be  reported,  verbatim." 

And  with  the  morrow  they  were  verified.  The  road 
was  blocked,  and  Union  troops  were  shot  down  in  the 
streets  of  Baltimore. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

A    FAIR    GEORGIAN. 

LATE  as  was  the  hour  when  Lieutenant  Hoyt  re- 
turned to  Fifth  Avenue,  lights  were  still  gleam- 
ing in  some  of  the  old-fashioned  mansions  and  many 
people  were  adrift  along  the  pavements,  all  in  quest  of 
authentic  news.  The  humid  air  was  thick  with  rumors. 
A  little  crowd  had  gathered  in  front  of  the  Brevoort,  for 
there  had  started  an  exciting  story  to  the  effect  that  the 
special  train  bearing  the  Seventh  through  the  Jerseys 
had  been  wrecked  beyond  Trenton,  and  Gotham  was 
ready  to  believe  almost  anything. 

Busy  at  his  desk,  filing  and  sealing  certain  papers, 
Hoyt  had  worked  in  silence  full  an  hour  after  the  de- 
parture of  Wallis  and  Hammond.  It  was  characteristic 
of  the  former  that  he  should  airily  decline  the  company 
of  the  latter  and,  in  impressive  dignity,  he  had  sauntered 
away  under  the  ailanthus  trees  that  bordered  the  curb. 

"Report  my  language  to  whomsoever  you  will,  Mr. 
— ah — Hoyt,"  he  had  languidly  said,  in  response  to  the 
junior's  indignant  words.  "It  may  serve  to  add  force 
to  what  I  have  already  said  officially  in  my — ah — effort 
to  rouse  the  Government  to  a  realization  of  its  peril.  As 
yet,  sir,  your  Pennsylvania  War  Secretary  hasn't  got 

50 


A    FAIR    GEORGIAN.  51 

his  eyes  open — a  sort  of  week-old  Keystone  kitten, 
Mr.  Hoyt,  and — ah — Mr.  Hammond.  However,  for- 
ty-eight hours  will  do  it.  Had  you  any — ah — further 
communication  from  our  estimable  superior,  the  major, 
Mr.  Hammond?  No?  I  am  correct,  I  assume,  in  be- 
lieving it  to  have  been  the  major  rather  than  the  colonel 
who  sent  you.  It  might  interest  him — it  may  interest 
you — to  hear  that  I  knew  all  about  it.  In  fact  it  is  a 
measure  devised  to  relieve  me  from  this  daily  contact 
with  the  things  I  loathe — at  Governor's  Island.  Good 
night  to  you,  gentlemen,"  and  so  saying  the  captain  had 
touched  his  hat  and  turned  away. 

For  all  the  mingled  hauteur  and  insolence  of  his  man- 
ner, however,  Wallis  had  been  startled  into  sobriety. 
The  swagger  had  returned  to — the  sway  had  gone  from 
— his  walk.  His  head  was  high,  his  demeanor  un- 
ruffled, his  cane  twirling  jauntily  as  ever  until  he 
reached  the  Avenue,  where  he  paused  a  moment ;  gazed 
at  the  Rutherford  mansion  as  though  half  bent  on  the 
return  he  had  promised ;  then  crossed  to  the  east  side, 
where,  out  of  sight  of  his  fellow  officers,  he  quickened 
the  pace  and,  hurrying  through  Eleventh  Street  to  Uni- 
versity Place,  caught  and  boarded  a  Fifth  Avenue  stage, 
southward  bound.  He  had  made  a  shrewd  guess  in 
saying  it  was  the  major  who  sent  in  search  of  him,  for, 
still  earlier  in  the  evening  the  colonel  commanding  had 
been  summoned  to  meet  a  general  officer  of  the  army 
at  the  Astor  House,  and  Hammond  made  another 
shrewd  guess  when,  as  they  watched  the  tall  form  strid- 
ing under  the  gaslight  at  the  corner,  he  said,  "Prince 


52  A    BROKEN    SWORD. 

Hal  won't  obey  that  order  until  he  first  reports  at  the 
New  York  Hotel." 

Hoyt  made,  for  the  moment,  no  response.  His  face 
was  grave  and  anxious. 

"Why  did  the  major  think  he  might  be  here  with 
me?"  he  presently  asked. 

"He  thought,  rather,  you  might  be  with  him.  That 
— reticule  business — "  began  young  Hammond,  un- 
comfortably. 

"You  don't  mean  to  say  that  it  is  known  at  the 
Island!"  exclaimed  Hoyt,  spinning  on  his  heel  and 
squarely  facing  the  junior  officer. 

"Certainly.  That  fool  brother  of  his  was  at  the  Le- 
roys  when  Barclay  was  virtually  accused.  Wallis  hasn't 
opened  his  head  about  it  that  I  know  of,  but  Wallis, 
Junior,  blabs  unconscionably.  What  makes  us  wrath- 
ful is  that  he  hints  that  Barclay  is  no  longer  received  at 
the  Rutherfords — that  he's  in  straits — that  he's  got  to 
get  out  of  New  York  or — into  trouble." 

"Trash!"  said  Hoyt,  impetuously.  "Barclay  is  a 
gentleman.  I've  known  his  people  for  years.  They 
are  poor  now,  perhaps,  but  he's  straight  as  a  string. 
Moreover,  he's  gone  with  the  Seventh  in  young  Ruth- 
erford's place.  That  looks  little  like  a  breach  between 
him  and  the  family!  Will  you  come  in,  Hammond?" 

"I  cannot.  I  must  be  back  at  midnight,  but  young 
Wallis  will  be  there  occupying  his  brother's  rooms. 
Should  he  say  or  hint  anything  more " 

"Say  for  me,"  broke  in  Hoyt,  "that  any  reflection  on 
Mr.  Barclay  is  tantamount  to  slander." 


A    FAIR    GEORGIAN.  53 

Yet  an  hour  later  when  the  cavalryman  came  again  to 
the  Avenue,  even  though  he  discredited  the  story  of  dis"- 
aster  to  the  Seventh,  he  was  perturbed  on  Barclay's 
account.  It  had  not  taken  many  days  after  his  reaching 
New  York  to  learn  how  devoted  that  young  gentleman 
had  been  for  months  to  Ethel  Rutherford,  and  once 
having  seen  her — the  tall  slip  of  a  girl  he  had  left  three 
years  before  in  long  braids  and  short  dresses,  now  a 
sweet  and  stately  damsel,  the  fairest  of  the  winter's 
debutantes,  Hoyt  could  well  account  for  that  infatua- 
tion. For  several  years  the  two  lads,  Barclay  and  Ger- 
ald, had  been  chums  at  school  and  at  college.  The 
business  of  Barclay,  Senior,  had  prospered  moderately 
during  the  middle  fifties,  but  after  the  November  elec- 
tion of  1860  had  fallen  away  alarmingly.  Most  of  his 
correspondents  were  in  the  South,  and  Southern  securi- 
ties in  the  spring  of  '61  became  unavailable  assets. 
Ethel,  sole  daughter  of  an  old  and  wealthy  family,  a 
beauty  and  a  belle,  was  not  a  bride  to  be  won  by  a  pen- 
niless suitor,  said  society.  "Barclay  was  too  near  her 
own  age — and  the  poorhouse,"  was  the  graceful  epi- 
gram in  which  Wallis  had  disposed  of  the  subject;  and 
even  while  society  laughed,  it  resented,  for  Ned  Barclay 
was  universally  liked,  was  one  of  the  brightest  spirits 
of  his  day  at  Columbia,  had  stood  among  the  fives  of  his 
class,  and  had  pulled  Gerald  Rutherford  through  more 
than  one  examination.  But  he  was  dependent  entirely 
upon  his  father ;  had  no  means  whatever  outside  his  al- 
lowance, and  found  that  allowance  swiftly  dwindling 
at  the  very  time  he  needed  it  most  He  was  a  youth 


54  A    BROKEN    SWORD. 

of  no  vices,  up  to  the  time  Wallis  burst  like  a  comet  into 
the  firmament  of  New  York  society,  and  he  had  re- 
nounced his  chief  hope  and  ambition  at  his  father's  stern 
behest.  As  a  youth  his  utmost  longing  had  been  to  enter 
West  Point,  and  at  that  time  his  cadetship  could  have 
been  won  without  much  trouble,  but  Barclay,  the  elder, 
had  an  almost  Quaker-like  horror  of  the  trade  of  war. 
Not  only  did  he  set  his  foot  firmly  down  on  that  aspira- 
tion, but  he  even  forbade,  two  years  later,  his  son's 
joining  the  Seventh.  Gerald  himself  was  a  member, 
yet  Ned  was  forbidden  to  set  foot  within  the  armory. 
Far  better  would  it  have  been  for  son  and  father  both 
had  his  bent  been  indulged,  for  when  Wallis  came,  he 
brought  among  other  letters  three  from  Southern  cor- 
respondents whose  wishes  Barclay  could  not  ignore. 
He  simply  had  to  welcome  Wallis  and  push  him  every- 
where. 

Wallis  had  not  been  slow  to  learn  Ned's  longing  for  a 
military  life,  and  frequent  visits  to  Governor's  Island 
and  the  mess  had  followed.  Also  frequent  dinners  and 
suppers  with  Wallis's  set  of  Southern  youth.  Then 
came  the  quick  secession  of  State  after  State,  and  stories 
of  great  disaster  to  the  house  of  Barclay  Brothers. 
Then  Ned  Barclay's  face  began  to  grow  white  and  hag- 
gard and  other  stories  were  whispered  on  the  Avenue. 
Captain  Wallis  himself  was  becoming  importunate  in 
his  attentions  to  Miss  Rutherford  whensoever  she  met 
him  in  society.  He  had  never  yet  been  bidden  to  the 
house,  for,  despite  her  Georgia  birth,  or  perhaps  because 
of  it,  Mrs.  Rutherford  from  the  very  first  had  set  her 


A    FAIR    GEORGIAN.  55 

face  against  him,  and  that  was  long  weeks  before  the 
spirited  encounter  at  the  Leroys  and  his  implied  defense 
of  Hugh  Preston — he  who  had  first  insulted  and  then 
shot  her  beloved  son.  Good  heavens !  the  last  lines  her 
brave  boy  had  written — blurred  by  repentant  tears,  for 
Ralph  had  caused  her  many  an  anxious  hour — she  read 
and  re-read  every  day  and  night  of  her  stricken  life,  and 
wore  ever  upon  her  grieving  heart.  She  could  not  bear 
to  receive  the  man  who,  while  stationed  in  the  South, 
had  been  the  intimate  of  Preston  and  others  of  his  set. 
She  had  turned  indignantly  upon  poor  Barclay  when  at 
last  she  learned  that  he  had  frequently  been  Wallis's 
guest — she  never  knew  at  what  solemn  cost — and  then  it 
was,  when  Gotham  would  have  it  that  Ned  Barclay's 
hopes  were  blasted  and  that  Wallis  would  be  the  coming 
man,  that  Ethel  Rutherford  had  amazed  society  by 
showing  for  the  former  a  preference  she  had  never 
shown  before.  This,  too,  at  a  time  when  he  seemed  to 
have  become  resigned  to  his  misfortunes ! 

"Coquetry,"  said  the  envious  others.  "She  only 
laughed  at  him  so  long  as  he  wooed  and  sighed,  but  now 
that  he  would  hold  aloof,  she  lures  him  back."  Yet  de- 
liberate coquetry  was  a  thing  the  pure-minded  girl  held 
in  abhorrence.  For  years  as  lad  and  lass  they  had  been 
frank,  jolly  boon  companions,  so  long  as  she  wasn't  in 
the  way  when  he  and  Gerald  were  planning  boyish 
pranks.  Later,  while  she  was  studying  at  Madame 
Hoffman's  and  the  boys  at  Columbia,  they  met  less  often. 
Then  came  senior  year  for  them,  and  "finishing"  for 
her,  and  then  poor  Ned,  marveling  that  he  had  never 


56  A    BROKEN    SWORD. 

seen  it  before,  saw  his  fate  and  fell  worshipper  at  her 
feet.  Now,  when  she  would  have  rejoiced  in  the  frank, 
jolly  friendship  of  the  old  days,  he  would  none  of  it  and 
was  full  of  sighs  and  sentiment,  and  so  bored  her  inex- 
pressibly. When  at  last,  in  a  torrent  of  eager  words,  he 
told  her  of  his  love,  she  chided, — they  were  both  too 
young,  she  said — and  then  when  he  waxed  importunate, 
she  turned  cold.  Then  came  his  troubles,  his  loss  of 
prospects,  fortune  and  what  all,  and  with  it  his  with- 
drawal from  the  field,  and  lo,  she  who  had  rebuked  and 
rebuffed,  now  sought,  followed,  even  pleaded  with  him, 
and  had  won  him  back  to  just  one  week  of  a  Fool's' 
Paradise, — she  was  so  grateful,  she  said,  for  all  he  had 
done  for  Gerald — and  then,  all  on  a  sudden,  Ralph's 
old  friend,  Bernard  Hoyt,  appeared  upon  the  scene,  with 
all  the  glamour  of  his  soldier  deeds  clustering  about  his 
unconscious  head,  a  hero  in  spite  of  himself,  for  no  man 
ever  had  less  self  assertion,  and  before  he  had  been  a 
week  within  the  doors  of  the  old  mansion  on  the  Avenue 
there  came  a  light  in  Ethel's  eyes  that  Ned  Barclay,  jeal- 
ously watching,  had  never  seen  before,  and  so  he  blessed 
the  chance  that  gave  him  Gerald's  place  upon  the  rolls  of 
Nevers's  company  and  sent  him  within  twelve  hours 
away  to  the  front.  At  odds  with  his  father,  with  fate, 
with  Wallis  and  the  world  at  large ;  with  an  indefinable, 
yet  undisproved  accusation  lying  at  his  door,  without  a 
word  from  Ethel,  whom  he  deliberately  avoided — with 
more  than  a  word,  a  lingering  hand  clasp,  a  most  un- 
American  and  totally  un-English  embrace  and  a  pledge 
of  undying  faith  and  friendship  from  Gerald-— with  one 


A    FAIR    GEORGIAN.  57 

shameful  burden  lifted  from  his  shoulders,  away  went 
Barclay  to  Washington  and  the  war. 

It  was  of  Barclay  more  than  of  Wallis,  and  for  the 
moment  more  than  of  the  startling  military  and  political 
situation,  that  Lieutenant  Hoyt  was  thinking  as,  along 
toward  eleven  o'clock  he  regained  the  Avenue  and,  see- 
ing the  excited  little  crowd  in  front  of  the  Brevoort, 
went  thither  at  once  to  learn  the  news.  By  this  time  the 
train  disaster  story  had  been  disproved,  but  it  had  gone 
far  and  wide,  so  anxious  friends  were  constantly  coming 
with  new  inquiry.  Among  these  latter  were  fathers  of 
families  well  known  to  Hoyt,  and  several  appealed  to 
him  with  questions  as  to  the  possibility  of  treachery  to 
the  Seventh  en  route  to  the  capital.  That  they  might 
have  stirring  work  after  reaching  Washington  was  well 
understood.  That  they  might  have  to  fight  their  way 
thither  had  not  been  contemplated  for  a  moment. 

"The  Seventh,"  said  Hoyt,  reassuringly,  "is  quite  able 
to  take  care  of  itself." 

"On  the  battlefield,  yes,"  said  an  elderly  man,  whom 
Hoyt  recognized  as  Mr.  Griswold,  "yet  one  of  your  own 
cloth,  lieutenant,  said  in  my  hearing  not  ten  minutes 
ago  that  in  the  narrow  streets  of  a  city  they  would  be  at 
the  mercy  of  the  mob." 

"No  disciplined  troops  under  proper  command  were 
ever  at  the  mercy  of  a  mob,  Mr.  Griswold,"  he  answered, 
firmly.  "Who  of  my  cloth  could  have  said  so  ?" 

"Captain  Wallis,"  was  the  prompt  reply. 

Hoyt  smiled.  "That  was  probably  at  the  New  York 
Hotel,  and — for  Southern  ears,"  said  he. 


58  A    BROKEN    SWORD. 

"No.  It  was  in  front  of  the  Rutherfords,  and  to 
these  gentlemen,  who,  like  myself,  have  sons  in  the 
Seventh!" 

"Wallis  at  the  Rutherfords! — "  began  Hoyt,  in  as- 
tonishment, before  his  better  judgment  controlled  him. 
It  was  barely  two  hours  since  he  had  succeeded,  for  good 
and  sufficient  reason,  in  getting  Wallis  away  from  there. 
Was  it  possible  the  captain  could  have  found  further 
exhilaration  at  the  New  York  Hotel— or  an  excuse  to 
return?  Five  minutes  settled  the  question.  Hasten- 
ing thither,  Hoyt  found  a  carriage  waiting  in  front  and 
questioned  the  driver.  Yes,  he  had  brought  Captain 
Wallis  and  the  captain  had  told  him  to  wait. 

A  dim  light  was  burning  in  the  second  story  front 
room — Mrs.  Rutherford's,  but  the  lower  story  and  base- 
ment were  dark.  The  shades  were  down  in  the  third 
and  fourth  story  rooms,  but  Gerald's  sanctum  was  evi- 
dently alight  and  occupied,  for  twice  a  shadow  passed 
swiftly  across  the  window.  Somebody  had  moved 
hastily  between  the  gas  jets  and  the  shade.  For  a  mo- 
ment Hoyt  stood  there  irresolute.  After  all,  what 
business  was  it  of  his?  What  right  had  he  to  dog 
Wallis's  footsteps?  Dissatisfied  and  vaguely  troubled, 
he  glanced  about  him.  Some  of  the  men  he  had  left  in 
front  of  the  Brevoort  were  already  close  at  hand,  and  he 
dreaded  further  questioning.  Walking  quickly  to  the 
next  street,  he  turned  westward  a  moment ;  waited  well 
over  toward  Sixth  Avenue,  until  they  had  gone  by,  then 
retraced  his  steps.  The  carriage,  at  the  instant  of  his 
return  to  the  avenue,  whirled  about  and  drove  rapidly 


A    FAIR    GEORGIAN.  59 

south,  and  as  he  reached  the  door  a  dark  form  standing 
in  the  shadow  of  the  stone  steps  suddenly  retreated 
through  the  basement  door.  Marveling  at  this,  as  he 
still  hovered  about  the  neighborhood,  Hoyt  heard  the 
front  door  violently  open.  Then  a  young  man  only 
partially  dressed  sprang  forth  on  the  broad,  free-stone 
steps  and  the  rasping  din  of  a  watchman's  rattle  burst 
upon  the  night.  A  policeman  went  bounding  bulkily 
up  the  avenue,  but  Hoyt  beat  him  half  a  dozen  lengths 
to  the  door.  "Come  in,  for  God's  sake!"  cried  Gerald, 
at  sight  of  his  face.  "Something  has  happened  to 
mother !" 


CHAPTER  V. 
MRS.  RUTHERFORD'S  MALADY. 

AT  one  o'clock  that  still  April  morning  an  anxious 
party  of  kinsfolk  and  neighbors  gathered  in  the 
parlors  of  the  old  Rutherford  mansion  on  the  Avenue. 
In  the  room  above,  Mrs.  Rutherford's,  lay  the  mistress 
of  the  household,  moaning  at  intervals,  faint  and  only 
half  conscious.  Beside  her,  pale,  tearful,  disheveled, 
knelt  her  daughter.  In  low-toned  consultation  were  Dr. 
Tracy,  for  years  the  trusted  physician  of  many  of  the 
old  Knickerbocker  families,  and  a  much  younger  man, 
a  rising  practitioner  of  the  modern  school,  Dr.  Parker. 
One  or  two  maid  servants  flitted  nervously  about,  ob- 
viously as  much  in  attendance  on  Hortense,  the  house- 
keeper, as  upon  their  mistress,  for  the  housekeeper's 
nerves,  too,  seemed  to  have  sustained  a  shock.  Upstairs 
and  down,  now  here,  now  there,  restless  and,  as  all  could 
see,  unstrung,  Gerald  Rutherford  was  darting  from 
room  to-  room,  searching  he  would  not  say  for  what ; 
and  in  the  dining-room,  silent,  alert,  dignified,  and  busy- 
ing himself  after  the  fashion  of  the  day,  in  serving 
sherry  and  biscuit  to  the  visitors,  was  Forbes,  for  more 
than  a  decade  the  family  butler  and  major  domo. 
Among  the  neighbors  gathered  in  the  parlor,  discussing 
in  low  tone  the  extraordinary  event  of  the  night,  were 

60 


MRS.    RUTHERFORD'S    MALADY.       61 

one  or  two  of  the  party  that,  two  hours  earlier,  had  been 
in  conversation  with  Lieutenant  Hoyt  at  the  Brevoort. 
Hoyt,  himself,  had  disappeared — gone  in  quest  of  Cap- 
tain Wallis  was  the  explanation,  for  there  was  grave 
reason  why  that  officer  and  gentleman  should  appear 
and  account  for  himself.  Unless  the  physicians  were 
utterly  at  fault,  he,  Wallis,  was  in  some  way  the  cause 
of  Mrs.  Rutherford's  severe  and  sudden  prostration. 

Just  what  had  happened  no  one  could  say.  This  much 
and  only  this  much  was  known :  Ethel  had  been  with 
her  mother  when,  shortly  after  half-past  ten,  a  carriage 
stopped  in  front  of  the  house,  and  they  listened  for  the 
sound  of  the  gong  that  announced  an  arrival.  They 
heard  Forbes  swiftly  ascend  the  stairs  from  the  base- 
ment and  go  to  the  front  door,  despite  the  fact  that  no 
bell  had  summoned  him,  and  then,  peering  through  the 
window,  Ethel  saw  that  several  men  were  gathered  on 
the  broad  pavement  in  front,  evidently  in  earnest  talk. 
Dim  as  was  the  light,  she  recognized  in  their  midst 
the  tall,  distinguished  form  of  Captain  Wallis,  and,  in 
answer  to  her  mother's  nervous,  excited  question,  told 
her  he  was  there.  Presently  Wallis  raised  his  hat  to  the 
knot  of  civilians,  turned  and  looked  up  at  the  windows. 
A  moment  later  they  heard  his  voice  at  the  door.  Won- 
dering at  his  coming  at  so  late  an  hour,  Ethel  darted  out 
into  the  hall  and  stood  looking  down  over  the  balusters. 

In  quick,  imperative  tone  Wallis  made  his  request. 
The  languid  drawl  had  vanished :  "Forbes,  say  to  Mrs. 
Rutherford  I  must  see  her — if  only  for  a  moment — on  a 
matter  of  importance." 


62  A   BROKEN   SWORD. 

With  swift,  catlike  steps,  Forbes  had  come  aloft. 
Ethel  had  again  darted  into  her  mother's  boudoir, 
alarmed  and  mystified.  She  heard  the  butler's  deep 
tone,  formal  and  respectful,  as  he  made  the  announce- 
ment. 

"Captain  Wallis,  ma'am,  begs  to  see  Mrs.  Rutherford 
for  five  minutes — a  matter  of  the  utmost  importance." 
Even  at  the  time  Ethel  noted  the  addition  made  by 
Forbes  to  the  message  as  given  him.  How  came  he,  the 
butler,  to  know,  and  knowing  to  say  of  his  own  motion 
that  it  was  a  matter  of  the  utmost  importance? 

"Show  the  captain  here,"  to  Ethel's  surprise,  was  her 
mother's  prompt  answer.  "I  wish  to  see  Captain  Wallis, 
and  by  myself,  Ethel,"  and  the  girl  had  barely  time  to 
escape  through  the  passage  leading  from  her  mother's 
boudoir  to  her  own  room  at  the  rear  of  the  house. 

Only  some  fifteen  minutes  did  Wallis  remain  in  the 
boudoir.  He  came  forth  hurriedly,  softly ;  went  down 
the  stairs  with  light  and  agile  steps, — he  who  was 
usually  so  deliberate  in  every  move.  Then  from  the 
hallway  below  Ethel  heard  his  voice  in  low,  yet  impera- 
tive tones:  "Forbes,  where  is  Hortense?" 

"In  the  basement,  sir.  Shall  I  call  her  ?  She  has  had 
visitors." 

"No.  Lead  on.  I'll  go  with  you,"  was  the  answer, 
and  that  was  all  until  Hortense  was  heard,  in  a  very 
few  minutes  scurrying  up  the  stairs,  and  then  came  from 
Mrs.  Rutherford's  room  a  cry  of  alarm.  Rushing 
thither,  Ethel  found  her  mother  lying  on  the  couch  in 
a  deathlike  swoon,  Hortense  bending  and  blubbering 


MRS.    RUTHERFORD'S    MALADY.       63 

over  her,  just  as  the  carriage  door  without  was  heard  to 
slam,  and  the  vehicle  drove  swiftly  away.  Gerald  had 
come  bounding  from  his  mother's  room,  minus  coat, 
waistcoat  and  boots,  and,  panic-stricken  at  sight  of  his 
mother's  pallid  face,  and  a  disorderly  array  of  papers 
lying  about  her  open  desk,  had  rushed  to  the  front  door 
and  sprung  his  rattle  to  summon  the  only  aid  then  avail- 
able— the  police. 

"My  first  thought  was  that  she  had  been  robbed," 
he  explained.  "The  desk  was  always  kept  locked,  and 
none  of  us  ever  saw  the  papers  out  before.  Now  they 
lay  scattered  about  the  floor  and  she  lay  in  a  swoon.  Of 
course  I  called  the  watch  and  sent  Forbes's  boy  for  the 
doctor,  but  Tracy  got  here  before  our  messenger  could 
have  gone  half  way — came  in  the  carriage  in  which 
Wallis  drove  away — Wallis  it  was  who  summoned  him 
and  sent  him  in  his  own  carriage." 

Now,  a  singular  fact  in  support  of  this  statement  was 
that  the  carriage  was  yet  there,  after  one  o'clock  in  the 
morning,  after  some  of  the  elders  had  gone  to  their 
homes,  and  while  Lieutenant  Hoyt  was  still  away 
searching  for  Wallis.  The  driver  said  he  was  waiting 
for  the  doctor's  orders  and  the  doctor  sent  word  he  had 
no  further  use  for  him.  Then  the  driver  said  he  wanted 
his  pay ;  and  the  butler,  being  sent  forth  to  settle  with 
him,  came  back  and  reported  that  the  man  demanded  six 
dollars,  first  for  taking  the  captain  and  another  gent  to 
the  house,  second  for  taking  the  captain  and  t'other  gent 
as  far  as  Dr.  Tracy's,  third  for  bringing  Dr.  Tracy,  and 
finally  for  waiting  two  hours  or  so.  The  captain  and 


64  A    BROKEN    SWORD. 

"t'other  gent"  had  disappeared  during  the  two  or  three 
minutes  which  it  took  Dr.  Tracy  to  get  ready. 

"Who  was  the  other  gentleman?"  was  the  question 
eagerly  asked  by  Gerald  when  he  in  turn  went  out  to  see 
the  driver.  But  that  was  something  the  driver  couldn't 
tell.  All  he  knew  was  that  he  wanted  six  dollars,  and  it 
would  soon  be  seven  if  they  kept  him  ten  minutes  more. 
Rutherford  paid  him  and  discharged  him,  after  taking 
his  address,  and  then  before  the  carriage  was  fairly  out 
of  sight,  whipping  round  a  corner  toward  Broadway, 
back  came  Lieutenant  Hoyt  in  another  vehicle.  He 
had  gone  all  the  way  to  Whitehall  only  to  learn  that 
Captain  Wallis  had  not  returned — had  not  even  been 
seen. 

There  was  an  old  boatman  in  those  days  who  was 
frequently  employed  by  officers  returning  late  at  night 
to  their  quarters  at  Governor's  Island,  and  Wallis  was 
one  of  his  deities.  Superior,  even  supercilious,  as  was 
the  captain's  manner  toward  most  of  his  associates,  it 
was  kindness  itself  toward  those  in  humbler  station,  just 
so  long  as  they  seemed  to  recognize  the  difference  in 
their  respective  walks  in  life.  He  gave,  too,  with  too 
liberal  a  hand,  dwarfing  the  largess  of  his  brother 
officers,  much  to  the  prejudice  of  good  order,  if  not  of 
military  discipline,  but  to  the  end  that  old  Jasper  and 
his  mates  worshiped  and  were  ever  eager  to  serve  him. 
This  devotion  on  their  part  had  become  intensified  since 
the  episode  of  his  midnight  rescue  of  the  drowning 
sailor.  Now  Jasper  well  knew  the  unpopularity  of  Cap- 
tain Wallis  and  therefore  took  delight  in  dilating  upon 


MRS.    RUTHERFORD'S    MALADY.       65 

his  virtues  in  the  presence  and  hearing  of  those  whom 
he  conceived  to  be  the  captain's  enemies.  No  man  is  a 
hero  to  his  valet,  but  one  way  to  win  the  masses  is  to 
offend  the  powers,  and  Jasper,  though  he  had  only  twice 
before  seen  Lieutenant  Hoyt,  scented  danger  to  his 
favorite.  The  very  tone  in  which  the  young  cavalryman 
couched  his  inquiry  told  of  menace. 

Stripping  a  leaf  from  his  pocketbook  after  satisfying 
himself  that  inquiry  was  useless,  Hoyt  wrote  as  follows : 

"CAPTAIN  WALLIS: 

"No  train  leaves  for  Washington  before  6  A.M.  Mat- 
ters gravely  involving  your  name  have  occurred  at  the 
Rutherford  house.  Mrs.  Rutherford  is  prostrated,  and, 
Dr.  Tracy  states,  because  of  the  disappearance  of  certain 
important  papers.  For  your  own  sake  and  that  of  the 
service,  I  urge  you  to  see  the  doctor  and  Mr.  Gerald 
Rutherford  before  you  go.  They  will  wait  for  you  all 
night  if  need  be.  I  have  left  a  similar  message,  sealed, 
at  the  New  York  Hotel.  BERNARD  HOYT." 

Folding  this  carefully,  he  handed  it  to  Jasper  and, 
leading  him  to  one  side  beyond  the  hearing  of  the  hack- 
man,  there  in  low  tone  gave  his  instructions. 

"Jasper,"  said  he,  "you  are  a  friend  of  Captain  Wallis 
and  would  gladly  do  him  a  service.  See  that  he  gets 
this  note  the  moment  he  comes,  and  on  no  account  let  it 
fall  into  other  hands." 

But,  when  questioned  on  the  following  day,  Jasper 
declared  that  Captain  Wallis  never  came  that  way  to  the 
Island  during  the  night.  At  five  in  the  morning,  Mr. 
Eugene  Wallis,  who  had  gone  over  shortly  before  mid- 


66  A    BROKEN    SWORD. 

night,  came  back,  bringing  certain  items  of  the  captain's 
kit,  and  stating  that  he  was  on  his  way  to  the  Cortlandt 
Ferry  to  meet  his  brother,  who  was  to  take  the  early 
train  for  Washington.  Contrary  to  the  instructions  of 
Lieutenant  Hoyt,  Jasper  placed  the  note  in  the  younger 
brother's  hands. 

The  night,  therefore,  passed  at  the  Rutherfords'  with- 
out further  visit  from  Captain  Wallis,  nor  had  he  again 
been  to  the  New  York  Hotel,  for  the  sealed  note  re- 
mained at  the  desk  unclaimed.  At  dawn,  wearied  with 
his  long  vigil,  and  leaving  his  patient  at  last  in  appar- 
ently tranquil  slumber,  Dr.  Tracy  had  returned  to  his 
home.  Ethel  and  a  nurse  remained  in  the  room  with 
Mrs.  Rutherford,  but  the  former  had  been  persuaded  to 
lie  down  and  was  trying  to  sleep.  The  servants  had 
finally  gone  to  their  rooms,  yet  lights  were  still  brilliant 
in  the  parlor  where  Gerald  Rutherford  paced  nervously 
to  and  fro,  waiting  for  the  coming  of  the  man  who  never 
came  and  for  whom,  late  as  four  o'clock,  Hoyt  had  again 
inquired  at  the  New  York  Hotel  and,  just  as  Tracy  was 
leaving,  returned  to  report  his  quest  unsuccessful  and  to 
endeavor  to  learn  more  definitely,  if  possible,  something 
of  the  real  cause  of  the  night's  alarm. 

He  and  Wallis  had  never  been  friends.  He  more 
than  suspected  Wallis  of  being  a  Southern  sympathizer. 
He  knew  him  to  have  been  a  card  player  on  "the  Plains," 
and  had  heard  tales  of  high  play  at  his  quarters  on  the 
Island  and  at  certain  resorts  in  town.  He  had  been 
told  that  Wallis  was,  not  many  months  since,  quite 
deeply  in  debt,  but  never  had  he  dreamed  it  possible  that 


MRS.    RUTHERFORD'S    MALADY.       67 

one  of  that  old  family  and  distinguished  name  could  be 
guilty  of  forcibly  or  fraudulently  possessing  himself  of 
valuable  papers,  yet,  from  all  that  could  be  gathered, 
most  important  papers  were  actually  missing  from  Mrs. 
Rutherford's  desk,  and  all  over  town  the  story  had  gone 
that  Ethel  Rutherford  had  lost  from  her  reticule  the 
previous  Sunday  letters,  or  something  of  that  sort,  on 
which  she  set  much  value.  Wallis  had  picked  up  the 
reticule  and  brought  it  to  the  house.  Wallis  had  been 
alone  with  Mrs.  Rutherford  late  that  very  night.  Her 
desk  had  all  the  appearance  of  having  been  rifled,  and 
it  was  not  until  the  following  day  that  she  herself  was 
able  to  declare  that  she  herself  had  opened  the  desk  in 
Wallis's  presence  and  had  tossed  those  papers  about 
while  searching  for  others  she  needed  to  show  him — 
others  that,  either  then  or  earlier,  had  disappeared.  Of 
their  nature  she  would  not  speak,  even  to  Gerald  and 
Ethel,  but  Tracy  gathered  that  they  were  connected 
with  Ralph's  adventurous  past,  and  in  the  hurried, 
whispered  conferences  between  brother  and  sister  that 
occurred  at  intervals  during  the  night,  this  had  been 
accepted  as  explanation  of  her  extreme  agitation. 

Forbes,  the  butler,  vigilant  and  gravely  sympathetic, 
had  come  up  from  his  den  in  the  basement,  as  the  doctor 
descended  the  stairs,  and  with  deep  deference  and  con- 
cern, had  begged  for  better  news  of  the  mistress  he  had 
so  long  served. 

"Better,  better,  thank  you,  Forbes/'  said  Tracy. 
"But  we  must  guard  her  carefully  against  further  shock. 
Er — you — you  were  her  brother's  butler  in  Savannah, 


68  A    BROKEN    SWORD. 

were  you  not,  before  his  death?  Did  you  ever  ob- 
serve  " 

"Not  in  Savannah,  sir,  except  for  occasional  visits," 
interrupted  Forbes,  with  much  deference,  yet  a  certain 
haste.  "It  was  in  Paris  and  Washington  I  had  the 
honor  of  serving  Mr.  Gordon." 

"  Ah,  yes,  I  remember,"  said  Tracy,  as  he  stepped 
forth  from  the  vestibule,  and  at  the  head  of  the  steps 
encountered  Lieutenant  Hoyt  returning  from  his  un- 
successful search.  The  two  young  men  were  in  the 
parlor  a  moment  later,  with  Forbes  hovering  about  in 
respectful,  assiduous  attendance,  just  as  the  first  pallid 
light  of  dawn  began  to  steal  into  the  eastward  sky. 
With  bewildered  brain,  Hoyt  was  trying  to  piece  to- 
gether all  he  had  seen,  heard  and  known  of  Wallis  in 
the  past,  and  then,  couple  his  conclusions  with  those 
forced  upon  him  by  the  events  of  the  night.  He 
remembered  only  too  well  how  Wallis  had  publicly,  as 
it  were — at  the  Leroys'  table — given  out  the  insinua- 
tion that  Ned  Barclay  was  the  man  who  knew  what 
had  become  of  Ethel's  missing  letters.  He  believed 
that  it  was  to  speak  of  her  murdered  boy  that  Mrs. 
Rutherford  had  conquered  her  antipathy  to  Wallis, 
sufficiently,  at  least,  to  permit  him  to  enter  her  bou- 
doir, and  that  when  Wallis  left  it  fifteen  minutes  later, 
he  left  the  desk  in  a  snarl  of  disorder  and  the  mistress 
of  the  house  in  a  swoon.  Hoyt  knew,  furthermore, 
that  when  Wallis  made  his  exit  from  the  house  it 
was  not  by  way  of  the  front  steps,  but  from  under- 
neath them — through  the  basement  door.  He  knew 


MRS.    RUTHERFORD'S    MALADY.       69 

now  that,  all  the  time  Wallis  was  within,  a  compan- 
ion remained  silent  and  concealed  in  the  carriage. 
Who  could  that  have  been?  He  remembered  that  as 
he  reached  the  house,  after  the  carriage  had  driven 
away,  a  dark  figure  was  visible  near  the  basement 
door,  but  slunk  quickly  within  at  sight  of  him — the 
butler,  probably — but  why  should  the  irreproachable 
Forbes  have  acted  then  as  though  unwilling  to  be 
seen,  when,  now  that  he  and  Gerald  had  much  to 
say  to  each  other,  Forbes  found  means  to  busy  him- 
self about  the  room? 

And  then  Hoyt  recalled  Wallis's  remarkable  words 
— the  words  he  had  resolved  to  report  to  their  com- 
manding officer  as  he  had  so  notified  Wallis — the 
words  he  had  already  spoken  of  to  Rutherford — the 
prophecy  that  no  train  on  the  morrow  would  suc- 
ceed in  getting  through  Baltimore.  What  possible 
knowledge  could  Wallis  have  of  a  plot  to  cut  com- 
munication with  the  threatened  capital?  Hoyt  was 
thinking  especially  of  this — had  spoken  of  it  to  Ruth- 
erford, still  nervously  and  excitedly  pacing  the  floor, 
when  the  latter  suddenly  turned  on  Forbes,  bidding 
him  to  withdraw  to  his  own  room.  Then,  as  with 
low  bow,  the  butler  turned  to  go,  all  three  stopped 
short  and  Rutherford  held  up  his  hand  as  though 
cautioning  silence. 

Far  down  the  street,  on  the  pulseless  morning  air, 
shrill,  boyish  voices  could  be  faintly  heard  uplifted 
in  exciting  cry.  Nearer  they  came  and  nearer,  the 
young  street  Arabs  running  rapidly  in  the  effort  to 


70  A    BROKEN    SWORD. 

outstrip  each  other  and  herald  their  wares  among  the 
homes  of  the  residence  district.  Indistinct  as  yet,  but 
startling,  were  their  cries,  and  the  young  men  has- 
tened out  upon  the  broad  stone  steps  in  front.  What 
news  of  the  Seventh  now?  was  the  thought  uppermost 
with  each. 

Full  tilt  across  the  Belgian  pavement,  waving  a 
paper  in  his  grimy  hand,  a  tattered  little  figure  came 
bounding  from  the  block  below,  and  then  at  last  the 
young  harbinger  of  evil  pealed  forth  his  message  to 
a  startled  world. 

"Extra  Her'ld!  Battle  at  Baltimore!  Massacree 
of  the  Sixth  Massachusetts!" 

And  Gotham  woke  in  desperate  earnest  now. 
Where  then  was  its  precious  Seventh? 


CHAPTER    VI. 

CLASHING    AUTHORITY. 

IN  the  brilliant  sunshine  of  mid  May  the  snow  white 
tents  of  a  great  regiment  were  gleaming  on  the 
heights  to  the  north  of  Washington.  It  was  the  hour 
of  the  afternoon  battalion  drill,  and  a  swarm  of  spec- 
tators in  carriages,  in  saddle  and  afoot,  watched  the 
machine-like  evolutions  of  the  long  gray-jacketed 
lines  and  listened  to  the  stirring  music  of  the  Seventh's 
splendid  band.  Around  Baltimore,  by  way  of  An- 
napolis instead  of  through  the  grimy,  hostile, 
"tough"-infested  streets,  the  first  comers  from  the 
Empire  State,  side  by  side  with  the  men  of  the  Eighth 
Massachusetts,  had  safely  reached  the  imperiled  capi- 
tal, and  they  were  not  happy  over  the  change  in  their 
projected  route.  The  tidings  that  their  comrades  of 
the  Sixth,  pushed  ahead  by  special  train  from  Phila- 
delphia, and  then  compelled  to  quit  their  cars  at  the 
eastern  suburb  and  fight  their  way  through  the  mob- 
ruled  city,  had  stirred  in  every  breast  a  longing  to 
move  at  once  on  Baltimore  and  sweep  its  blackguard 
element — sole  participants  in  the  assault — from  the 
face  of  the  earth.  But  older  heads  had  counseled 
deviation  from  the  route.  Washington,  the  capitol, 

71 


72  A    BROKEN    SWORD. 

the  President  and  cabinet  were  the  first  consideration. 
Baltimore  could  be  handled  later. 

For  a  day  the  Seventh  had  stacked  its  arms  in  the 
marble  corridors  and  chambers  of  the  capitol  itself; 
had  noted  with  keen  appreciation  the  martial  and 
ringing  voice  of  the  gifted  officer  sent  to  muster  them 
into  the  service  of  the  United  States,  and  had  well 
nigh  exploded  with  merriment  over  the  vivid  contrast 
in  mien,  tone  and  manner  of  the  soldier  in  charge  of 
the  impressive  ceremony  and  the  civilian  chosen,  as 
was  deemed  the  proper  thing  in  those  earlier  days, 
to  administer  to  the  regiment,  all  and  severally,  the 
solemn  obligation  that  bound  it  to  battle  against  all 
enemies  of  the  Republic  whomsoever.  With  bared 
right  palms  uplifted  stood  the  long  gray  ranks,  facing 
in  statuesque  silence  and  gravity  the  queer  little  figure 
that,  book  in  hand,  stepped  a  pace  or  two  forward 
from  the  group  of  officials;  glanced  nervously  up  and 
down  the  lines,  and  then  those  lines  shook  and  swayed 
in  the  effort  to  subdue  their  almost  irrepressible 
laughter,  when,  in  shrill,  high-pitched,  quavering 
falsetto  the  little  man  piped  forth,  "The  folloiving  is 
the  oath." 

And  now,  the  observed  of  all  observers,  the  famous 
command  was  fairly  in  camp,  and  the  gleaming  bayo- 
nets of  its  gray-clad  sentries  flashed  in  the  slanting 
sunshine — those  along  the  roadway,  time  and  again, 
coming  to  the  "present"  as  officers  of  rank  and  dis- 
tinction rode  or  drove  in  front  of  the  westward  posts. 
And  right  here  at  the  corner  of  camp  nearest  the 


CLASHING   AUTHORITY.  73 

dusty  thoroughfare  leading  away  toward  the  distant 
roofs  and  spires  of  the  city,  an  odd  thing  happened 
this  blithe  May  afternoon. 

The  sentry  on  Number  12,  erect,  alert  and  sol- 
dierly, had  halted  and  faced  the  roadway  for  about  the 
fortieth  time  since  the  posting  of  the  second  relief, 
for  another  carriage  came  whirling  toward  him  from 
town,  and  two  officers,  followed  by  an  orderly  in  the 
yellow  trimmed  jacket  of  the  cavalry,  were  riding  in 
close  attendance.  Up  the  line  of  sentry  posts,  north- 
ward and  mainly  beyond  the  guard  tents,  spectators 
in  large  numbers  were  watching  the  evolutions  of  the 
regiment.  The  band  for  the  time  was  silently  await- 
ing the  next  period  of  rest.  At  the  head  of  each  com- 
pany street,  seated  on  camp  stools  or  sprawled  about 
the  turf,  was  a  little  knot  of  gray-jackets,  critically 
observing  the  drill  and  watching  the  work  of  the 
sentries,  for  even  in  those  earlier  days  the  Seventh 
prided  itself  on  its  precision  in  guard  and  sentry  duty. 
Number  12  had  come  in  for  favorable  comment  time 
and  again — his  soldierly  bearing  and  consummate 
knowledge  of  the  details  of  his  duty  being  obvious  to 
all.  The  question  was,  "How  did  he  get  it?"  for,  as 
the  whole  Sixth  Company  knew,  Private  Barclay  had 
never  donned  the  uniform  of  the  regiment  until  the 
April  day  they  marched  away. 

"I  was  corporal  of  his  relief  the  first  time  he 
mounted  guard,"  said  Van  Dusen,  corporal  of  com- 
pany police,  and  excused  because  of  that  duty  from 
afternoon  drill,  "and  he  knew  the  ropes  better  than 


74  A    BROKEN    SWORD. 

I  did,  but  he  explained  it  by  saying  he  had  so  often 
visited  the  camp  at  West  Point  and  watched  the 
sentries  at  Governor's  Island.  He  was  forever  going 
over  there." 

"With  that  hee-haw  Dundreary  fellow  Wallis," 
broke  in  young  Burnham,  impetuously.  "It  galls 
me,  somehow,  to  have  to  salute  him,  and  he's  forever 
riding  out  here.  He  and  Barclay  were  thick  as  thieves 
all  the  early  spring.  Now — they  don't  speak." 

"How  can  they,  you  idiot?"  demanded  Van  Dusen. 
"We're  sworn  into  service  on  the  same  basis  as  the 
rank  and  file  of  the  regulars,  and  it's  nothing  but 
salute  and  stand  attention.  Look  you,  now.  Yon- 
der comes  the  very  man.  Gad,  but  he  can  sit  a 
horse!" 

And  so  for  a  moment  all  eyes  were  directed  upon 
the  distant  carriage,  swiftly  bowling  up  the  dusty 
road,  upon  its  attendant  cavaliers,  upon  the  lone 
sentry  now  standing  at  halt  and  "support,"  facing 
squarely  to  his  front.  Even  over  the  intervening  hun- 
dred yards  the  soldier  spectators  could  not  but  see 
that  the  equipage  was  one  of  the  few  really  stylish 
and  well-appointed  to  be  found  in  Washington  at  the 
time.  Coachman  and  footman  were  in  livery,  with 
cockaded  hats.  A  spotted  coach  dog  trotted  under- 
neath. The  open  landau  glistened  with  paint  and 
varnish  and  silver  lamps  and  trimmings.  The  high- 
checked,  high-stepping  team  were  blooded  bays,  and 
what  could  be  seen  of  the  occupants  under  the  lace- 
fringed  parasols  told  of  wealth  and  station.  Wallis, 


CLASHING   AUTHORITY.  75 

like  Major  Pendennis,  often  said  he  was  so  poor  he 
could  afford  to  be  seen  with  nothing  less. 

His  spirited  horse,  curveting  at  the  right  of  the 
carriage,  was  guided  and  controlled  by  the  lightest 
touch  of  his  bridle  hand.  Disdainful  of  the  high- 
pommeled  Grimsley  saddle,  then  the  regulation  for 
officers'  use,  Wallis  sat  like  a  centaur  in  an  English 
pigskin,  his  riding  trousers  strapped  down  over  the 
dainty  boot  that  peeped  through  the  polished  steel 
stirrup.  No  black-hooded,  cumbrous  wooden  block 
for  him,  when  within  the  confines  of  civilization.  His 
uniform  frock  coat,  faultless  in  fit  and  style,  was  worn 
with  careless  grace. 

The  French-made  kepi  that  followed  neither  the 
orthodox  pattern  of  forage  cap  nor  the  newfangled 
"McClellan"  with  its  overhanging  top  and  sloping 
visor,  sat  jauntily  over  the  right  eye  and  brow,  in 
dashing  defiance  of  the  edicts  of  the  War  Department. 
The  skirts  of  his  coat  were  at  least  a  foot  shorter  than 
the  law  allowed.  His  trousers,  cut  in  the  extreme  of 
the  peg-top  style  then  in  vogue,  were  at  least  a  foot 
larger  at  the  knee,  and  were  dark  instead  of  the  pre- 
scribed sky  blue.  From  head  to  foot  he  looked  the 
beau  sabreur — the  easy,  debonair,  almost  insolent 
cavalier,  and  from  head  to  heel,  decorated  as  was 
the  latter  with  flashing  steel  spur,  he  was  a  picture  of 
-soldierly  style  and  unsoldierly  contempt  for  regula- 
tion. 

But  how  was  this?  Unmistakable  as  was  the  form, 
what  was  there  unfamiliar  in  the  uniform?  Two 


76  A    BROKEN    SWORD. 

days  before,  when  Van  Dusen  was  on  guard,  the 
debonair  captain  had  ridden  jauntily  along  their 
front,  the  sentries  facing  him  and  bringing  their  rifles 
to  the  shoulder  in  deference  to  the  single  row  of 
buttons  and  the  double  bars  of  gold  upon  the  glisten- 
ing "rectangles."  Now,  to  the  surprise  of  these 
soldier  critics,  Barclay's  gleaming  rifle  was  snapped 
suddenly  to  the  "present,"  and  the  explanation  was  be- 
fore their  eyes.  The  single-breasted  frock  had  given 
place  to  another,  its  glittering  buttons  in  a  double 
row.  Wallis,  the  gay,  indifferent  dawdler  of  the  Isl- 
and, the  man  perennially  on  the  ragged  edge  of  trial 
by  court-martial  for  neglect  of  duty — or  his  superior 
officers — rode  revealed  before  the  astonished  gaze  of 
the  Seventh,  the  first  of  the  coterie  of  "regulars"  they 
had  seen  about  New  York  to  receive  promotion.  The 
gold  bars  had  sprouted  into  golden  leaves — Wallis 
had  been  made  major  of  one  of  the  new  regiments 
just  organized  by  direction  of  the  President,  and  the 
more  youthful  rider,  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  car- 
riage, in  the  uniform  of  a  subaltern  of  the  same  com- 
mand, was  Wallis's  younger  brother,  Eugene.  What 
strange  influence  could  have  been  at  work  that  these, 
whose  haunts  and  habits  were  ever  those  of  the  gay, 
reckless  set  of  Southerners  that  for  years  had  spent 
their  summers  and  their  dollars  at  Saratoga,  should 
be  among  the  very  first  selected  for  advancement  in 
the  Union  blue? 

And  now,  facing  these  two,  statuesque,  soldierly 
and  in  the  field  dress  of  a  private  of  the  Seventh 


CLASHING   AUTHORITY.  77 

Regiment,  Ned  Barclay  stood  with  presented  arms, 
saluting  the  worst  enemy  he  had  ever  known. 

But  the  episode  had  not  ended.  A  careless,  me- 
chanical lift  of  the  hand,  unaccompanied  by  even  a 
glance,  was  the  major's  recognition  of  the  sentry's 
salute  as  he  cantered  by.  They  who  watched  saw 
that  Barclay  instantly  resumed  the  shoulder,  almost 
before  strict  sentinel  etiquette  permitted;  tossed  the 
gleaming  rifle  to  the  "slope"  and  with  his  eyes  on  the 
brilliant  little  party,  followed  along  his  post.  Then 
it  was  that  the  oddest  part  of  the  odd  thing  hap- 
pened. 

The  wind  was  blowing  briskly  from  up  the  valley  of 
the  Potomac,  whirling  little  dust  clouds  from  the 
roadway  across  the  sentry  post,  and  a  sudden  puff 
had  caught  a  light,  filmy  veil  from  the  head  of  one  of 
the  ladies  and  borne  it  sailing  through  space,  directly 
within  the  guarded  lines  and  straight  in  front  of 
the  marching  sentry  on  Number  12.  Major  Wallis, 
whose  bay  was  plunging  excitedly  at  the  moment, 
did  not  see  it,  for  it  flew  behind  him.  Eugene  Wallis, 
looking  at  the  ladies  as  he  rode,  and  jealously  watch- 
ing, too,  the  saluting  sentries,  reined  up  promptly 
and,  turning  to  the  right,  rode  straight  at  the  sentry 
post,  at  the  same  time  calling  to  the  orderly  to  pur- 
sue and  capture  the  floating  veil.  It  had  fluttered  to 
the  ground  by  this  time  about  a  dozen  yards  inside 
the  post  of  Number  12.  The  orderly,  a  veteran  regu- 
lar, glanced  dubiously  at  the  lieutenant  and  uncer- 
tainly at  the  sentry,  but  thought  it  best  to  obey. 


78  A    BROKEN    SWORD. 

To  his  end  he  spurred  his  horse  at  the  low  bank  and 
— was  brought  up  suddenly  by  the  crash  of  Number 
I2's  bayonet  coming  to  the  charge  and  the  ringing 
order,  "Halt!" 

"That's  all  right,  sentinel,"  shouted  young  Wallis 
from  his  saddle.  "I  ordered  the  man  to  get  that  veil, 
sir." 

Back  came  the  rifle  to  the  shoulder,  then  snapped 
to  the  "port."  "Sorry,  sir,"  was  the  uncompromising 
reply;  "my  orders  forbid  it." 

"Not  when  an  officer  assumes  the  responsibility, 
sir,"  shouted  the  week-old  lieutenant,  angered  and 
reddening,  and  suddenly  realizing  to  whom  he  was 
speaking.  "I  order  you,  sir,  to  respect  my  authority 
and  let  my  man  pass." 

"I  repeat,  sir,  my  orders  forbid  it.  You  have  no 
authority  here,"  was  the  sharp,  sudden  and  not  too 
respectful  answer,  for  well  did  Barclay  know  that  a 
sentry  "took  orders"  from  no  subaltern  except  the 
officer  of  the  guard.  So  did  the  mounted  orderly, 
who  sat  motionless  and  trying  not  to  look  tickled 
half  to  death  at  the  boy  officer's  discomfiture.  The 
carriage  had  stopped  several  rods  away.  The  ladies 
were  gazing  and  listening.  The  major,  taking  in  the 
situation  at  a  glance,  had  trotted  ahead  toward  the 
guard  tents  where  he  could  cross  the  lines  unhin- 
dered. It  was  not  wise  of  him  to  go  without  first 
calling  off  the  callow  lad  in  the  bumptiousness  of  his 
first  uniform,  and  Eugene  made  the  blunder  of  his 
life. 


CLASHING   AUTHORITY.  79 

In  his  ignorance  of  the  sentry's  prerogative  he 
chose  to  think  that  Barclay  was  seizing  the  oppor- 
tunity to  brave  and  belittle  him  before  the  eyes  of 
society  and  so  avenge,  in  part,  the  injuries  dealt  by 
the  words  and  deeds  of  his  elder  brother.  Furiously 
digging  the  spurs  into  his  mettlesome  charger's 
flanks,  he  drove  straight  at  the  sentry.  In  an  instant 
the  shout  for  the  corporal  of  the  guard  went  ringing 
down  the  line,  and  the  lookers-on  sprang  to  their  feet 
in  time  to  see  the  flashing  bayonet  again  slapped  down 
to  the  charge.  Deaf  to  the  lieutenant's  wrathful  or- 
ders, disdainful  of  upraised  whip  or  on-coming  steed, 
the  sentry  of  the  Seventh  stood  his  ground  like  a  rock, 
and  the  shining  steel  dug  deep  in  the  glossy  brown 
shoulder  before  the  abused  and  innocent  victim  could 
check  his  own  way.  Then  as  the  whip  came  down, 
the  blood-dripping  bayonet  was  tossed  on  high,  parry- 
ing the  stroke,  and  then  came  the  corporal  and  a  file 
of  the  guard,  running  at  speed  to  the  scene. 

After  them  came  their  officer.  After  him,  at  swift 
trot,  with  genuine  concern  in  his  sombre  eyes,  Major 
Wallis.  The  veil  was  forgotten.  Sinewy  hands  seized 
the  bridle  reins  and  backed  horse  and  rider  to  the 
roadway. 

"Eugene — Eugene!"  said  Wallis,  in  evident  dismay, 
"dismount  at  once  and  look  to  your  horse.  Gentle- 
men, I  beg  you  to  overlook  my  brother's  error.  He 
shall  make  every  amend.  He  really  did  not  know  he 
should  not  force  a  sentry  post.  Your  sentry  did  per- 
fectly right.  I  make  you  my  compliments,  sir,"  said 


8o  A    BROKEN    SWORD. 

he,  raising  his  cap  and  for  the  first  time  looking  at 
and  fairly  seeing  Number  12.  Then,  on  a  sudden,  the 
flash  went  out  from  his  eyes,  the  flush  from  his  cheeks. 
"Good  God — Barclay — you!" 

For  a  moment  not  another  word  was  spoken.  With 
the  blood  spurting  from  his  maimed  shoulder  the  bay 
stood  quivering  before  them;  his  rider,  white  with 
rage  and  humiliation,  slowly,  reluctantly  dismounting. 
Far  up  the  field  the  regiment,  in  compact  column  of 
division,  had  just  stacked  arms  for  a  brief  rest,  and  the 
band  began  a  spirited  selection  from  a  favorite  opera 
of  the  day — the  "Ballo  in  Maschera."  From  the 
guard  tents  a  few  soldiers,  drawn  by  curiosity,  came 
a  little  distance  and  stood  silently,  intently  watching 
the  group  in  front  of  Number  12.  They  saw  the  major 
still  in  saddle,  his  horse  switching  nervously  about, 
while  the  skilled  rider's  eyes  were  fixed  in  evident 
amaze  and  some  chagrin  on  the  stern,  set  face  of  Ned 
Barclay,  who  for  his  part,  finding  himself  addressed, 
coolly  assumed  once  more  the  position  of  port  arms, 
looked  straight  before  him  into  space  and  answered 
never  a  word. 

By  this  time  Eugene  Wallis  had  slid  his  hand  along 
the  rein  and,  with  hatred  burning  in  his  eyes,  stood 
glaring  at  Barclay,  ignoring  utterly  the  plight  of  his 
beautiful  steed.  So  engrossed  were  the  entire  party 
by  the  scene  at  the  spot  that  none  noticed  the  swift 
approach  of  a  slender  young  officer  in  the  uniform  of 
the  cavalry.  Paying  no  heed  to  any  man  present,  he 
had  leaped  from  saddle;  tossed  the  reins  to  his  orderly 


CLASHING  AUTHORITY.  81 

and,  brushing  young  Wallis  aside  with  but  scant 
apology,  bent,  looked  one  instant  at  the  jetting 
wound;  then  straightened  up;  glanced  eagerly  about 
him;  pointed  to  a  near-by  fence  where,  in  the  slanting 
sunbeams,  something  was  glistening  and  shimmering; 
then  spoke  in  quick  yet  quiet  tone  of  command  to 
the  corporal  and  his  men. 

"Fetch  me  a  handful  of  those  cobwebs,"  said  he, 
and  at  the  sound  of  his  voice  the  soldiers  darted  away, 
while  Wallis,  in  saddle,  whirled  suddenly  about  and 
glared. 

"What — ah — you,  too,  Mr. — ah — Hoyt!"  he  be- 
gan, with  quick  resumption  of  the  old,  insolent  drawl. 
"We  are  dealing  in — ah — surprises,  it  seems,  this — 
ah — afternoon." 

With  no  more  reply  than  had  been  accorded  by  the 
sentry,  Lieutenant  Hoyt  turned  and  stood  pressing 
together  the  lips  of  the  wound.  Then,  as  the  guard 
came  hurrying  back,  took  from  their  outstretched 
hands  a  quantity  of  the  filmy  web;  rolled  it  into  a 
wad;  clamped  it  firmly  against  the  horse's  shoulder 
with  both  hands,  briefly  saying  to  young  Wallis, 
"Hold  him  steady  a  moment." 

"Er — ah — Eugene,  when  the  bleeding  is — ah — 
stanched  you  will  find  us — ah — with  the  Secretary's 
party.  The  ladies  are  probably  getting  impatient. 
Mr.  Officer-of-the-Guard,  I  regret  this  unhappy — ah 
— accident,  and  so  does  my  brother,  who  is — ah — per- 
haps too  much  overcome  to  speak.  Good  evening, 
sir,"  and  the  major  rode  airily  away. 


82  A    BROKEN    SWORD. 

''Good  day,  Major  Wallis,"  answered  the  New 
York  lieutenant,  with  cold  civility  and  a  perfunctory 
touch  to  the  cap  visor.  Then  turning  to  the  scowling 
junior,  who  was  quivering  with  suppressed  rage,  said, 
"I  shall  have  to  trouble  you  for  your  name  and  ad- 
dress, sir." 

''Lieutenant  Eugene  Wallis,  -  — teenth  Infantry, 
Regular  Army,"  was  the  answer,  in  ruffled  but  im- 
pressive dignity.  "I  am  responsible  personally,  sir," 
he  added,  with  painful  imitation  of  the  manner  of  the 
men  he  had  most  assiduously  studied,  "personally,  sir," 
he  continued,  "for  anything  I  may  have  said  or  done. 
The  insolence  of  your  sentry,  sir " 

"My  sentry,  sir,  made  only  one  slip,"  was  the  in- 
stant rejoinder.  "Your  own  brother  bears  him  out. 
Personally,  sir,  I  regret  that  he  bayoneted  the  horse. 
It  should  have  been  you." 

In  a  fury  now,  Wallis  the  younger  whirled  on  this 
new  tormentor.  "By  God,  sir!"  he  cried.  "I  can't 
stoop  to  words  with  a  contemptible  private,  but 
you  at  least  wrear  the  badge  of  an  officer  and 
a  gentleman.  I'll  hold  you  personally  account- 
able- 

"You'll  be  held  officially  accountable,"  sharply 
broke  in  Lieutenant  Bronson,  of  the  Seventh,  spring- 
ing back  a  pace,  his  hand  at  his  sword  hilt,  for 
in  his  blind  rage  Wallis's  whip  was  once  more  up- 
lifted. 

But  it  never  fell.  A  hand — a  very  bloody  hand — 
quickly  seized  it  from  the  rear,  and  then  a  voice — a 


CLASHING   AUTHORITY.  83 

very  quiet  voice — but  a  very  stern  one — said:  "Let  go 
that  whip,  Mr.  Wallis,  and  then  follow  your  brother — 
in  arrest." 

For  a  moment  there  was  utter  silence.  Then, 
stunned  and  startled,  yet  bent  on  making  brave  show 
to  the  last,  young  Wallis,  with  twitching  lips,  turned 
savagely  on  the  speaker. 

"I'm  not  under  your  command,  Lieutenant  Hoyt. 
You  can't  place  me  in  arrest." 

"Another  exhibit  of  your  ignorance,  Mr.  Wallis," 
was  the  placid  reply,  as  the  blue-eyed  young  caval- 
ry-man stepped  forward,  his  dripping  hands  out- 
stretched. "I  saw  you  threaten  and  abuse  a  sentry 
and  then  raise  a  whip  at  an  officer  in  the  discharge 
of  his  duty.  My  first  thought  had  been  to  look  after 
this  horse  you  so  misused.  Now,  as  Mr.  Bronson  may 
be  unaware  of  his  prerogative,  or  unwilling  to  use  it 
on  a  week-old  regular,  I  shall  use  mine.  By  the  ar- 
ticles of  war  all  officers  have  power  to  quell  all  quar- 
rels, frays  and  disorders,  whether  among  persons 
belonging  to  their  own  or  to  another  corps.  Pardon 
my  preaching,  gentlemen  of  the  Seventh,  but  the 
occasion  calls  for  a  lesson — 'and  to  order  officers  into 
arrest/  as  I,  sir,  order  you,"  and  with  that  Hoyt 
turned  squarely  on  his  junior,  the  cause  of  all  the 
trouble. 

Then  suddenly,  the  men  of  the  Seventh,  sentry  and 
all,  once  more  stood  at  salute,  for  Major  Wallis  had 
come  trotting  back. 

"What  delays  you?    What  has  occurred,  Eugene?" 


84  A    BROKEN    SWORD. 

he  asked,  in  sharp,  imperative  tone,  so  unlike  the 
drawl  and  dawdle  he  affected  in  society. 

"Ask — this  man,"  was  the  sullen  answer,  as 
Wallis  indicated  with  a  mere  gesture,  Lieutenant 
Hoyt. 

"I  have  ordered  your  brother  under  arrest,  Major 
Wallis,"  said  Hoyt,  speaking  slowly  and  distinctly, 
and  looking  squarely  up  into  the  burning  eyes  of  the 
handsome  horseman.  "He  abused  and  threatened  a 
sentry  and  attempted  to  lash  the  officer  of  the  guard. 
These  gentlemen  are  inexperienced,  possibly,  in  such 
matters.  You  and  I  are  not." 

"Then  here  and  now,  Mr. — ah — Hoyt,  I  counter- 
mand your  order  and  assume,  as  your  superior,  all 
responsibility  in  the  premises." 

It  was  an  awkward  moment.  Here  was  a  palpable 
clash  of  authority  between  representative  officers  of 
the  regular  army  in  the  presence  and  hearing  of 
officers  and  men  of  the  nation's  most  famous  regi- 
ment of  citizen  soldiery.  Bronson,  looking  as  though 
he  knew  not  what  to  do,  stood  in  silence,  his  hand  still 
at  the  sword  hilt,  his  eyes  glancing  first  at  one,  then 
the  other.  Barclay,  as  sentry,  no  longer  addressed  or 
addressing,  looking  as  though  he  knew  just  what  to  do 
and  was  longing  to  do  it  but  for  the  iron  rules  of  the 
service,  had  resumed  the  "shoulder"  and  stood  like  a 
statue.  The  corporal  and  his  party  had  withdrawn 
a  pace  or  two,  one  of  the  number  replacing  Hoyt  and 
continuing  the  effort  to  stanch  the  flow  of  blood,  but 
one  and  all  started  as  though  with  sudden  shock; 


CLASHING   AUTHORITY.  85 

then  stood  staring  at  Hoyt  as  the  answer  came,  stern, 
sharp  and  cutting. 

"You  are  in  no  position,  Major  Wallis,  either  to 
order  or  to  counter-order.  You  were  directed  not  an 
hour  ago  to  report  in  person  to  the  adjutant  general  to 
answer  to  the  charge  laid  at  your  door — that  of  conduct 
unbecoming  an  officer  and  a  gentleman." 


CHAPTER  VII. 

A  SOUTHERN   GENTLEMAN. 

WITH  commissions  in  the  regular  or  volunteer 
army  awaiting  nearly  half  its  membership,  the 
Seventh  was  sent  home  at  the  end  of  a  month.  The 
danger  was  over  for  the  time  being.  The  seventy-five 
thousand,  and  more,  had  answered  the  call.  Washing- 
ton was  a  military  camp,  of  all  manner  of  soldiers,  in 
every  conceivable  kind  of  dress  and  equipment  and 
grade  of  discipline.  Baltimore  was  subdued,  but  seeth- 
ing, and  in  both  cities  the  friends  of  the  South — of  "the 
States  in  rebellion" — were  as  active,  hopeful  and, 
among  residents  at  least,  well  nigh  as  numerous  as  were 
those  of  the  Union.  Across  the  Potomac  the  stars  and 
stripes  floated  over  the  parapets  of  Fort  Runyon — many 
a  blistered  palm  had  the  Seventh  to  show  for  its  spade 
work  on  the  sacred  soil — while  the  stars  and  bars 
fluttered  in  full  view  of  the  capitol  over  the  roofs  of 
Alexandria.  The  rabble  of  Gotham,  ever  at  odds  with 
what  it  called  its  "shanghai"  regiment,  shouted  derision 
at  its  return — the  ignobile  vulgus  and  the  unthinking  in 
better  station  professing  to  believe  that  these  who  were 
able  to  instruct  and  command  should  have  stayed  to 
fight  in  the  ranks.  The  War  Department  knew  better. 

86 


A    SOUTHERN    GENTLEMAN.  87 

Men  fit  for  soldiers  could  be  found  by  the  hundred  thou- 
sand. Officers  qualified  to  teach  and  discipline,  to  lead 
and  drill  the  vast  levies  soon  to  be  raised,  even  for  the 
new  regiments  of  regulars,  were  so  few  in  proportion 
to  the  crying  need  that  the  government  was  eagerly  con- 
ferring commissions  on  soldiers  of  fortune  from  the 
ranks  abroad,  sergeants  from  the  ranks  at  home  and 
civilians  by  the  score  from  many  a  city.  The  Island 
became  a  bustling,  swarming  school  for  newly  ap- 
pointed officers.  Their  white  tents  dotted  the  green- 
sward within — and  the  glacis  without — old  Fort  Co- 
lumbus, and  the  tall,  martial  colonel  in  command — 
the  one  man  to  whom  Harold  Wallis  had  ever  shown 
the  faintest  deference  during  his  six  months'  sojourn 
at  the  post — was  the  soldier  at  whose  desk  so  many  of 
the  Seventh,  Ned  Barclay  among  them,  made  their  first 
report  in  their  brand-new  uniforms  as  subalterns  of  the 
regular  service.  He  was  far  too  fine  and  distinguished 
a  man  in  his  profession  to  long  remain  at  duty  so  incon- 
spicuous. With  the  stars  of  a  general  officer  on  his 
shoulders  he  was  sent  to  the  West,  saying  to  his  suc- 
cessor as  he  was  escorted  across  to  the  ferry,  "Do  me 
one  favor,  Blunt.  Look  out  for  young  Wallis.  I — 
promised  the  mother  to  watch  over  both  her  boys  and 
— you  know  what  a  time  I've  had." 

Blunt,  however,  only  half  knew.  It  had  taken  all  the 
influence  of  certain  Senators,  all  the  pleadings  of  cer- 
tain old  army  friends  of  the  Wallises — men  who  loved 
the  memory  of  the  father,  killed  fighting  gloriously  in 
the  Mexican  War — and  all  the  persuasive  powers  of 


88  A    BROKEN    SWORD. 

Major  Wallis  himself  to  induce  the  irate  adjutant  gen- 
eral to  recommend  to  the  War  Secretary  that  the 
numerous  charges  against  him  be  "pigeon-holed" — he 
would  not  recommend  their  being  entirely  dropped. 
Simon  Cameron  himself  would  speedily  have  surren- 
dered to  the  pleasure  had  not  Lorenzo  Thomas,  head  of 
the  adjutant  general's  department,  stood  stanchly  to  his 
guns.  The  charges  against  Wallis  had  come  in  fast  and 
furious — some  from  responsible  and  urgent  patriots, 
prominent  citizens  of  Gotham — some  mere  rabid  froth- 
ings  of  sensation  and  scandal  lovers.  "Holding  treason- 
able intercourse  with  the  enemy,"  "being  an  active 
sympathizer  with  the  South"  and  "corresponding  with 
Southern  officers  and  families"  were  serious  enough  to 
call  for  explanation,  but  when  Bernard  Hoyt  supple- 
mented these,  as  he  did,  with  a  written  statement  re- 
garding the  disappearance  of  certain  letters  of  Miss 
Rutherford's  from  her  silken  bag  and  of  important 
papers  from  Mrs.  Rutherford's  desk,  presumably  on  the 
occasion  of  Wallis's  midnight  visit  to  her  boudoir,  the 
adjutant  general  felt  that  prompt  action  was  demanded 
and  sent  an  orderly  with  a  note  directing  the  major  to 
report  to  him  in  person  at  once. 

Wallis  had  planned  that  afternoon  to  waylay  the  car- 
riage of  a  most  influential  and  distinguished  woman, 
daughter  of  a  Cabinet  Minister  and  a  power  in  social 
circles.  He  wished  to  present  his  younger  brother  and 
secure  her  interest  in  his  behalf,  and  conceived  that  in 
no  way  would  Eugene  be  so  apt  to  make  a  favorable 
impression  as  in  saddle.  It  was  there  the  brothers 


A    SOUTHERN    GENTLEMAN.  89 

looked  their  best.  It  was  without  surprise,  but  with 
airily  concealed  annoyance,  that  he  received  the  gen- 
eral's mandate  and,  after  reading  it,  signed  the  receipt. 
He  dared  to  consider  it  too  late  in  the  afternoon  for 
office  hours ;  tossed  the  note  aside  to  be  obeyed  on  the 
morrow  and,  at  the  very  moment  when  the  adjutant 
general  sat  at  his  desk  in  the  dark  old  War  Department 
building  of  the  early  sixties,  awaiting  Wallis's  coming, 
that  debonair  officer  cantered  buoyantly  away  to  the 
northward  suburbs,  and  Thomas  waited  in  vain.  For 
this  reason  had  the  major's  reception  on  the  following 
day  been  frigid  in  the  last  degree. 

But  if  Thomas  was  icy  Wallis  was  not,  when  told 
of  the  charges  against  him.  He  had,  of  course,  de- 
manded explanation  of  Hoyt  at  the  camp  of  the  Sev- 
enth and  in  the  presence  of  Bronson,  Barclay  and  the 
others  present  at  the  moment.  "The  matter  is  in  the 
hands  of  the  Adjutant  General,  sir,"  was  that  officer's 
reply,  "and  full  explanation  awaits  you  there,  where 
you  should  be  at  this  instant  instead  of  here." 

For  reasons  of  his  own  Wallis  had  believed  that  the 
charge  to  which  Hoyt  referred  was  in  some  way  con- 
nected with  Barclay.  Not  until  he  appeared  before  the 
General  did  he  find  that  in  nowise  was  Barclay  men- 
tioned. But  for  one  thing  he  would  have  gone  in  search 
of  Lieutenant  Hoyt  the  moment  his  interview  with 
General  Thomas  closed.  A  soldier  of  the  old  school  and 
of  the  old  army,  his  first  thought  was  to  "call  him  out" 
and  if  possible  shoot  him,  but  the  thing  that  prevented 
was  his  being  sent  summarily  to  his  quarters  in  arrest, 


90  A    BROKEN    SWORD. 

and  there  for  five  days  and  nights  had  he  to  stay 
until  powerful  friends  and  the  War  Secretary  pre- 
vailed. 

Confident  of  the  major's  guilt  and  believing  that  all 
necessary  and  incriminating  evidence  could  be  forth- 
coming, Hoyt  never  foresaw  the  possibility  of  his 
charges  being  "turned  down."  A  man  of  almost  puri- 
tanical purity  of  life,  of  most  delicate  honor  and  gifted 
with  a  sense  of  duty  almost  abnormal,  Hoyt  had  long 
looked  upon  Wallis  as  an  officer  whose  influence  in  army 
circles  wras  bad  throughout,  and  it  was  a  peculiarity  of 
his  nature — a  flaw,  if  you  will — that  w7here  he  saw  so 
much  to  condemn  he  could  find  nothing  to  approve. 
The  two  had  been  antagonistic  from  the  start,  and  the 
breach  had  been  widened  irreparably  by  an  episode  at 
St.  Louis  only  the  year  before.  A  court-martial  at 
Jefferson  Barracks  was  sitting  in  judgment  on  the 
actions  of  a  certain  officer  of  the  supply  department,  and 
Hoyt  had  been  called  thither  as  a  witness.  On  the 
steamer  from  Leavenworth,  down  the  Missouri,  he  was 
surprised  to  find  the  young  and  winsome  wife  of  a 
senior  officer  whom  Hoyt  held  in  much  esteem — much 
more  than  he  felt  for  her — and  on  arrival  of  the  steamer 
at  St.  Louis  he  was  not  surprised  to  see  Harold  Wallis 
on  the  levee,  first  man  to  board  the  boat  as  the  stage- 
plank  lowered. 

What  passed  between  the  two  men  later  at  the  Plant- 
ers' was  known  only  to  themselves.  What  passed  be- 
tween Hoyt  and  the  clerk  just  before  that  meeting  was 
known  to  many.  Hoyt  had  entered  the  office  of  the 


A    SOUTHERN    GENTLEMAN.  91 

popular  old  hostelry,  much  frequented  of  army  folk 
in  the  days  before  the  war ;  had  glanced  over  the  regis- 
ter, then  turned  sharply  on  the  clerk.  "Captain  Wallis 
is  here,"  said  he.  "Have  the  goodness  to  show  me  to 
him  or  send  that  card." 

"The  captain  is  not  registered,"  was  the  reply,  yet 
there  was  hesitation  in  the  manner  of  the  speaker,  but 
none  whatever  in  that  of  the  officer  as  he  took  up  the 
word.  "I  see  he  is  not  registered,  yet  I  know  he  is 
here.  Send  that  card  at  once,  if  you  please." 

The  darky  bell-boy  came  back  in  a  moment.  "De 
capt'in  says  he's  engaged  and  would  prefer  to  see  the 
gem'man  an  hour  later." 

"Show  me  to  him  wherever  he  is,"  was  Hoyt's  in- 
stant response,  and,  scared,  the  servant  led  the  way  to 
a  little  annex  to  the  ladies'  parlor,  where  Hoyt  dis- 
missed him,  entered  and  found  Wallis  pacing  the  floor, 
impatiently  awaiting  another  coming.  The  door  closed 
behind  him  and  the  darky  heard  nothing  further.  He 
saw,  however,  a  lady  coming  tripping  down  the  corri- 
dor; saw  her  open  that  door  as  though  to  enter;  saw 
her  stop  short,  turn  abruptly,  and  hurry  back  to  her 
room.  He  told  his  fellows  her  face  was  like  a  rose  the 
first  time  she  passed  him  and  like  chalk  the  second. 
Then  presently  the  parlor  bell  rang,  and  when  the  boy 
went  thither  for  the  third  time  the  captain  was  pacing 
up  and  down  excitedly,  and  the  lieutenant  sitting  back 
on  the  lounge  "lak  he  was  goin'  to  stay  all  night,"  and 
the  lieutenant  took  out  his  card  case  and  said,  give  his 
card  and  his  compliments  to  the  lady,  and  he'd  wait 


92  A   BROKEN   SWORD. 

her  convenience  to  see  him.  At  the  barracks,  whither 
the  story  flitted  within  a  day,  it  was  conceded  that  Hoyt 
had  simply  "sat  Wallis  out."  No  wonder  the  latter 
hated  him. 

And  now  the  two  had  clashed  again. 

"Wallis  will  challenge  Hoyt  the  moment  he's  re- 
leased," said  one  who  knew  Wallis  well,  and  said  it  to 
the  venerable  Pennsylvanian  at  the  head  of  the  War 
Department. 

"I'll  make  it  a  condition  of  his  release  that  he  refrain 
from  anything  of  the  sort,"^said  Cameron. 

"Then  he  will  publicly  insult  Hoyt  and  force  him 
to  challenge,"  said  the  staff  officer,  for  the  day  of  the 
duello  had  not  yet  closed. 

"Fll  see  to  that/'  said  Lorenzo  Thomas;  and  to 
Wallis's  keen  chagrin  he  found  on  his  release  that  Hoyt 
had  been  sent  a  thousand  miles  away  on  a  mission  to 
buy  mules  and  mounts  by  the  thousand.  Not  until  after 
Bull  Run  was  Hoyt  recalled  from  the  West,  and  by  that 
time  matters  of  far  greater  moment  had  closed  on 
Harold  Wallis.  The  one  man  he  loved,  his  boy  brother 
Eugene,  stood,  if  caught,  in  peril  of  his  life. 

There  had  been  the  very  devil  to  pay,  as  the  major 
put  it,  at  the  officers'  mess  on  the  Island.  Reporting 
there  as  ordered,  and,  finding  among  his  new  associates 
Barclay,  and  comrades  who  cold-shouldered  him  from 
the  start,  Eugene  Wallis  had  adopted  toward  them  a 
bearing  of  haughty  and  almost  insolent  defiance,  and 
had  speedily  become  conspicuous  for  neglects  of  duty 
and  protracted  absences.  It  was  found  that  he  was 


A   SOUTHERN   GENTLEMAN.          93 

spending  nights  at  the  New  York  Hotel  when  he  should 
have  been  at  his  quarters ;  that  his  associates  in  the  city 
were  almost  exclusively  of  the  Southern  set;  that  his 
most  intimate  friend  in  society  was  Jimmy  Granger; 
and  Major  Blunt  took  occasion  to  warn  him  that  he  was 
laying  himself  open  to  sharp  criticism.  Eugene  flushed, 
but  had  been  well  coached.  For  the  time  at  least  he 
curbed  tongue  and  temper  and  asked  for  further  in- 
dulgence later  in  the  day.  It  was  reluctantly  given, 
with  a  "rider"  to  the  effect  that  he  must  return  to  the 
post  by  midnight.  He  did  not  come  until  reveille,  and 
was  then  given  to  understand  that  not  for  a  week  would 
he  be  permitted  to  leave  the  Island. 

Two  days  later,  among  the  visitors  arriving  at  n 
o'clock,  were  two  young  ladies  chaperoned  by  a  society 
leader  of  Southern  birth  and  escorted  by  Granger  and 
a  man  of  middle  age,  obviously  no  Northerner.  They 
asked  for  and  were  shown  to  Mr.  Wallis's  tent,  and 
found  that  young  gentleman  in  his  best  uniform  ready 
to  meet  them.  Very  natty  looked  the  second  lieutenant, 
even  in  that  queer,  clerical,  single-breasted  frock  then 
worn  by  company  officers  throughout  the  service — very 
handsome,  too,  if  a  bit  boyish — and  Lorna  Brenham's 
beautiful  eyes  softened  at  sight  of  him.  Hard,  defiant, 
disdainful,  they  had  flashed  like  the  bayonets  of  the 
guard  when  she  and  her  party  were  politely  requested 
to  state  their  names  and  business  at  the  landing.  The 
officer  of  the  guard,  a  newcomer,  but  a  keen  one, 
glanced  quickly  from  his  note-book  as  Granger  gave  the 
replies,  and,  sending  a  drummer  to  show  them  the  way? 


94  A    BROKEN    SWORD. 

the  officer  wrote  a  line  to  the  post  adjutant,  which  he 
sent  by  another. 

Major  Blunt  was  at  the  moment  in  conversation  with 
his  staff  officer,  and  his  eyes  kindled  at  the  latter's  quick 
announcement.  "Wallis  has  visitors — young  Granger 
with  them.  One  of  the  ladies  is  that  beautiful  Miss 
Brenham,  of  Georgia — secesh  to  the  backbone." 

The  major  stepped  out  in  front  of  the  dingy  old 
building  that  in  those  days  served  as  post  headquarters. 
Sauntering  along  the  shaded  walk  in  the  afternoon 
sunshine  came  a  picturesque  little  party — two  attractive 
young  women,  most  stylish  in  garb.  The  foremost,  a 
brilliant  picture  of  Southern  brunette  beauty,  was  lean- 
ing on  the  arm  of  young  Wallis.  The  second  seemed 
well  content  with  the  attentions  of  the  middle-aged 
stranger,  unmistakably  Southern  in  dress  and  language. 
Third  in  column  came  the  duenna,  escorted  by  Mr. 
Granger — the  one  man  of  the  three  obviously  dissatis- 
fied with  the  situation.  They  passed  so  near  the  com- 
manding officer  that  every  word  of  their  talk  was 
distinctly  audible.  Indeed,  so  far  as  the  ladies  were 
concerned,  it  would  seem  as  though  they  intended  that 
such  should  be  the  case,  for  Miss  Brenham's  silvery 
tones  were  uplifted  beyond  the  usual  pitch.  They 
passed  so  near  that  it  was  the  soldier  duty  of  Lieuten- 
ant Wallis  to  salute  his  post  commander,  but  it  pleased 
that  young  gentleman  to  fix  his  eyes  and  attention  on 
Miss  Brenham's  glowing  face  and  to  utterly  ignore  his 
superior.  Chatting  volubly,  Miss  Brenham  sailed  by 
with  only  one  brief,  almost  contemptuous,  glance  at  the 


A    SOUTHERN    GENTLEMAN.  9$ 

glowering  major.  The  distinguished-looking  South- 
erner who  came  second  looked  hard  at  the  official  and, 
moved  by  a  spirit  of  courtesy  and  probably  by  soldier 
instinct,  lifted  his  broad-brimmed  Panama  and  bowed 
with  grave  dignity.  Granger,  a  Gothamite,  and  the 
supervising  matron,  sedulously  looked  the  other  way 
and  would  not  see  him. 

"By  God,  Mr.  Webb,"  said  the  angry  officer,  to  his 
right  hand  man,  as  he  turned  and  re-entered  the  office, 
"I  won't  be  braved  here  in  my  own  bailiwick  by  no- 
torious rebel  sympathizers.  Do  nothing  discourteous, 
of  course,  but  as  soon  as  possible  send  young  Wallis 
here  and  let  those  others  rest  awhile  out  there  under  the 
shadow  of  the  flag.  To  think  that  young  jackanapes 
should  put  on  such  impudent  airs  when  he  knows  well 
I  have  condoned  all  manner  of  misdoing!  Now,  by 
Jove,  I'll  have  to  give  him  a  lesson,  if  he  is  a  Wallis!" 

Ten  minutes  later  as  the  sextet  came  sauntering  back, 
laughing  and  talking  animatedly,  excitedly,  the  tall, 
bearded  adjutant  met  them  and,  raising  his  cap,  bowed 
with  much  empressement  before  Miss  Brenham.  She 
knew  him  well.  They  had  met  at  a  dozen  dinners  or 
parties  during  the  winter.  She  had  liked  him  well,  too, 
but  it  was  now  her  humor  to  accord  him  but  a  haughty 
and  distant  greeting. 

"Your  pardon,  Miss  Brenham,"  said  he,  "I  am  come 
to  play  substitute  a  few  minutes,  for  Mr.  Wallis  is 
needed  at  the  office.  Mr.  Wallis  will  report  at  once  to 
Major  Blunt,  and  during  his  absence,  by  your  leave, 
I  will  be  guide.  Should  you  like  to  see  the  Castle? 


96  A    BROKEN    SWORD. 

There  will  be  time,  you  know,  before  the  next  boat  for 
town." 

"The  prison  part  of  your  fortifications,  I  believe,  Mr. 
Webb,"  said  she,  almost  pointedly  ignoring  the  prof- 
fered arm.  "Why  should  you  fancy  we  care  to  see  the 
dungeons?  That  is  the  one  part  we  have  no  present 
use  for.  Why,  pray,  does  Major  Blunt  select  this  time 
to  send  for  Mr.  Wallis?  I  had  still  more  to  say  to  him 
before  we  returned." 

She  looked  daringly  into  the  tall  adjutant's  eyes,  as 
she  spoke. 

"That,  Miss  Brenham,  may  be  the  very  reason,"  was 
the  significant  reply. 

Meantime  in  the  office  Mr.  Eugene  Wallis  was  get- 
ting his  first  sharp  official  wigging  and  any  one  could 
see  that  Blunt  was  well  wrought  up.  He  was  tramping 
up  and  down  the  bare  little  room  as  was  his  wont  when 
excited,  and  laying  down  the  law  in  vigorous  Anglo- 
Saxon.  Finally  he  stopped  short  and  faced  the  visibly 
angering  junior. 

"For  the  old  name's  sake,  Mr.  Wallis,  I  have  shown 
you  more  indulgence  than  any  officer  at  the  post,  and 
you  reward  it  by  rank  discourtesy.  You  passed  me 
ten  minutes  ago  without  the  faintest  recognition. 
What  possible  excuse  have  you?" 

"Among  Southern  gentlemen,  sir,  a  lady  takes  pre- 
cedence. Miss  Brenham  was  speaking  to  me,  and  under 
such  circumstances  gentlemen  shouldn't — expect  to  be 
recognized,"  was  the  amazing  reply. 

Blunt's  eyes  nearly  popped  from  their  sockets.    His 


A    SOUTHERN    GENTLEMAN.  97 

face  turned  purple  as  his  old  sash.  The  veins  swelled. 
The  hands  clinched.  The  table  shook  with  the  force 
of  his  wrath.  Then  at  last  "fierce  he  broke  forth" : — 
"Well,  of  all  the —  Go  to  your  tent  at  once — in  close 
arrest,  sir!" 


CHAPTER   VIII. 

AN  ARREST  EVADED. 

F  I^O  hear  Lorna  Brenham's  vehement  account  of 
JL  that  day's  visit  to  the  Island,  as  told  in  many  a 
gathering  of  sympathetic  friends  and  fellow  South- 
erners, and  even  in  the  parlors  of  such  tolerant  house- 
holds as  the  Leroys',  one  would  suppose  that  Major 
Blunt  had  robbed  Eugene  Wallis  of  his  liberty  for  no 
other  reason  than  that  he  had  dared  to  escort  her  and 
her  little  party  about  the  post.  Heavens,  how  her  eyes 
blazed  and  her  tongue  cut  and  slashed !  Blunt  was  a 
cad — Blunt  was  a  low-born — Blunt  was  a  nigger 
worshipper — Blunt  was  a  mudsill,  whatever  that  may 
have  meant.  But  when  Lorna  appealed  to  the  two  men 
who  had  been  in  attendance  on  this  exciting  day  they 
failed  to  support  her  to  the  extent  this  imperious  queen 
could  have  wished.  Granger,  sulky  and  silent,  could 
only  be  induced  to  say  that  Blunt  seemed  glad  of  a 
pretext  to  discipline  Wallis,  whereas  her  other  aide-de- 
camp— the  distinguished-looking  Georgian,  who  was 
North  on  some  mysterious  mission  and  who  had  been 
presented  to  her  circle  of  acquaintances  as  Major  Forno 
— very  stanchly  said  that,  from  Wallis's  own  account  of 
the  affair,  Major  Blunt  could  have  had  no  alternative. 
'That  young  fellow/'  said  he,  "has  no  business  to  be 

98 


AN    ARREST    EVADED.  99 

wearing  the  federal  uniform  and  is  too  big  a  fool  to  be 
permitted  to  wear  ours."  Forno  had  the  carriage  and 
manner  of  a  man  bred  to  camp  as  well  as  court.  Soldier 
was  stamped  in  his  every  pose.  What  then  was  he 
doing  here  in  Gotham  and  in  civilian  dress  ? 

The  news  that  Eugene  Wallis  had  been  ordered  in 
close  arrest  was  not  long  in  reaching  the  Rutherfords, 
and  then  another  odd  thing  happened.  In  spite  of  the 
fact  that  Major  Wallis,  the  elder  brother,  was  connected 
in  the  minds  of  most  people  with  the  disappearance  of 
those  important  papers  belonging  to  Mrs.  Rutherford, 
that  lady  heard  the  tidings  with  obvious  concern,  and 
sent  Gerald  forthwith  to  the  Island  to  express  her 
sorrow,  if  not  her  sympathy,  and  to  inquire  if  she  could 
not  do  something  to  ameliorate  the  prisoner's  condition. 
Like  almost  any  other  woman  unacquainted  with  army 
ways,  Mrs.  Rutherford  supposed  that  the  military 
arrest,  which  simply  required  Mr.  Wallis  to  remain  in 
his  tent  except  when  visiting  the  officers'  mess  for  his 
meals,  involved  incarceration  in  some  gloomy  dungeon 
within  the  walls  of  Castle  William.  Gerald  knew  better 
and  tried  to  set  her  right.  He  little  liked  what  he  had 
seen  and  heard  of  Wallis  and  was  reluctant  to  visit  him, 
but,  curiosity  as  to  the  situation,  a  certain  change  of 
heart,  as  it  were,  in  his  mother's  attitude  toward  the 
Wallises,  and  finally  the  desire  to  see  and  talk  with  Ned 
Barclay  prevailed,  and  he  went.  No  obstacle  whatever 
was  thrown  in  the  way  of  his  going  to  the  young  officer's 
tent  and  conveying  his  mother's  message,  coupled  with 
an  inquiry  for  the  address  of  the  older  brother. 


ioo  A    BROKEN    SWORD. 

Rutherford  found  young  Wallis  enveloped  in  a  cloak 
of  gloomy  distance  and  dignity  that  first  irritated  and 
then  amused  him.  "My  brother,  sir,"  said  Eugene 
coldly,  "is  on  duty  at  Washington,  organizing  his  new 
regiment.  Any  letter  sent  care  of  the  War  Department 
will  reach  him  at  once.  No,  I  do  not  expect  him  here 
at  all.  There  is  no  reason  why  he  should  come.  This 
temporary  inconvenience  will  be  terminated  the  moment 
the  Secretary  has  had  time  to  read  the  statement  I 
forwarded  two  days  ago.  Then  our  doughty  major 
here  will  wish  he'd  kept  his  temper.  I  expect  the  order 
for  my  release  to-morrow  without  fail.  It  isn't  the  first 
time  the  Department  has  been  called  upon  to  disown  the 
actions  of  malignant  enemies  toward  me." 

But  Barclay  and  his  brother  officers  scouted  this  idea 
when,  a  little  later,  they  heard  it  from  Rutherford's  lips. 
"He  made  an  ass  of  himself  at  Camp  Cameron,"  said 
they — "was  excused  because  of  youth  and  inexperience, 
but  with  a  very  solemn  warning.  Now  he's  behaved 
like  a  lunatic  here.  Blunt  will  court-martial  him  sure 
as  shooting,  and  he  richly  deserves  it.  Ask  Webb." 

Rutherford  did  ask  Webb,  a  "regular"  several  years 
and  many  "files"  the  senior  of  the  new  appointees,  and  a 
man,  moreover,  who  in  days  gone  by  had  been  a  com- 
rade and  associate  of  the  elder  Wallis.  The  peccadillos, 
moral  and  professional,  of  that  brilliant  but  erratic 
officer,  however,  had  gradually  undermined  the  friend- 
ship of  the  frontier,  and  when  Webb  came  to  the  Island 
on  the  return  of  the  ill-starred  Star  of  the  West,  he 
had  but  a  cold  and  perfunctory  greeting  for  his  erstwhile 


AN   ARREST,  EYADEJX  :,'  101 


chum.  Indeed,  little  t^y  -little,  \\falfts  h^d,  succeeded  in 
alienating  nine  out  of  ''ten  'of  -tile  cbfrira'des  of  the  old 
days,  even  among  those,  who,  siding  with  the  South, 
had  followed  their  native  States  in  the  general  revolt 
against  the  federal  government.  It  boded  ill  for 
Eugene,  therefore,  that  Webb  should  have  been  selected 
to  serve  as  adjutant  of  the  post,  for  Webb  was  a  soldier 
from  the  ground  up  and  one  intolerant  of  soldier  sole- 
cisms of  any  kind. 

"Certainly  it  means  court-martial,"  was  his  answer 
to  Rutherford's  inquiry.  "Charges  have  been  preferred 
and  sent  to  Department  Headquarters.  Blunt  might 
have  listened  to  an  apology  yesterday,  had  the  youngster 
come  to  his  senses,  but  he  seems  doubly  defiant  and  surly 
—insists  that  he  was  right  and  that  the  War  Depart- 
ment will  sustain  him.  I  fancy  he  has  some  bad,  but 
persistent,  advisers  in  that  Cranston  gang.  Mr.  Ruth- 
erford, your  mother's  people  are  Georgians  —  who  is 
this  Major  Forno  and  what  is  he  doing?" 

They  were  seated  at  the  moment  on  the  north  ve- 
randa of  the  building  then  used  as  the  officers'  mess. 
Before  them,  from  the  rear  gallery,  it  commanded  an 
almost  unbroken  view  of  the  two  magnificent  streams  — 
the  Hudson  to  the  left,  the  East  River  to  the  right  — 
with  the  roofs  and  walls  and  spires  of  the  great  city 
fringed  by  the  forest  of  masts,  lying  like  a  thronging 
hive  between.  No  towering  tenements  as  now,  broke 
the  sky-line.  The  graceful  spire  of  Trinity,  piercing 
the  heavens  far  above  the  cornice  of  the  highest  build- 
ings, the  belfry  on  the  old  post  office,  the  white 


102  /A    BROKEN  ;  SWORD. 

cupola  <af  tbe.;city,teU  and  the  ksser  spire  of  St.  Paul's 
capped  the  picture'  of  t-h^'cityof  '61 .  The  greenwood 
shades  of  Battery  Park,  the  circular,  embrasured  walls 
of  the  old  battery  itself — once  the  great  theatre  that 
had  thrilled  to  the  witching  voice  of  Jenny  Lind,  then 
had  fallen  to  the  base  uses  of  an  emigrant  depot — lay 
in  plain  sight  across  the  tumbling  waters.  The  boats 
of  the  South  and  Staten  Island  ferries  churned  the 
tossing  waves  into  a  \vake  of  creamy  foam.  Occupy- 
ing the  recent  berth  of  the  Minnesota,  a  British 
frigate  swung  at  anchor  on  the  tide,  barely  five  hun- 
dred yards  above  the  Island,  her  white-streaked  side 
pierced  with  a  dozen  ports.  A  well-manned  rowboat, 
sweeping  sidewise  with  the  swift  ebb,  was  nevertheless 
heading  straight  for  the  dripping  stone  steps  of  the 
landing,  and  the  pacing  sentry,  his  gleaming  rifle  at 
support,  eyeing  it  narrowly,  had  already  summoned 
the  corporal  of  the  guard.  It  was  the  Island  ferry  on 
its  third  trip  from  town,  and  the  stern  sheets  were 
filled  with  passengers.  Even  as  he  asked  the  ques- 
tion, Webb  had  unslung  the  field  telescope  that  hung 
at  the  wall  and,  quickly  adjusting  the  focus,  leveled 
it  upon  the  dancing  barge. 

"I  haven't  an  idea,  Mr.  Webb,  who  or  what  he  is," 
said  Rutherford,  slowly,  "nor  does  my  mother  know, 
and  as  yet  we  have  not  seen  him.  Miss  Brenham 
might  tell,  or  Mr.  Granger,  but  we  rarely  meet  them 
now." 

"Well,"  said  the  adjutant,  slowly,  still  peering 
steadily  through  the  long  brass  tube  and  steadying  it 


AN    ARREST    EVADED.  103 

against  a  pillar,  "unless  this  thing  deceives  me,  here 
comes  the  gentleman  himself,  and  it's  my  business 
to  ascertain  his  business.  Orderly!"  he  shouted,  sud- 
denly whirling  about  in  his  tracks. 

"Sorr,"  was  the  instant  reply,  and  in  trim,  snug- 
fitting  tunic,  in  quaint,  bulging,  stiff-brimmed  felt 
hat,  adorned  with  feather  and  brazen  bugle,  his  shoul- 
der scales,  brasses,  buttons,  boots  and  belt  gleaming 
with  polish,  a  soldier  of  the  old  school,  an  Irishman, 
sprang  up  the  steps  and  stood  attention,  his  white- 
gloved  hand  at  the  precise  salute  of  the  venerated 
Scott's  tactics,  palm  to  the  front  and  finger  tips  just 
touching  the  edge  of  his  hat  brim. 

Rapidly  Mr.  Webb  scribbled  a  few  words  on  a  scrap 
of  paper.  "To  Major  Blunt,  quick!"  said  he,  "and 
bring  the  answer  here."  The  orderly  vanished.  The 
adjutant  closed  and  returned  the  glass  to  its  place, 
then  turned  on  the  waiting  group.  Rutherford  in 
civilian  garb,  Barclay  and  Cutting  in  uniform,  were 
the  three  others  present  at  the  moment.  It  was  al- 
most time  for  the  drums  and  fifes  to  be  sounding 
"Roast  Beef  of  Old  England"  as  the  city  bells  struck 
noon.  The  fatigue  parties  were  already  drifting  bar- 
rackward  in  response  to  the  recall  hammered  by  the 
drummer  of  the  guard  a  moment  agone.  The  officer- 
of-the-day,  his  red  sash  over  the  shoulder,  was  stalking 
briskly  toward  the  guardhouse  hear  the  dock,  and  the 
sentry  was  watching  him  as  he  came,  waiting  until  he 
passed  the  shot  pile  at  the  office  angle  before  ringing 
out  the  martial  summons,  "Turn  out  the  guard!"  in 


io4  A    BROKEN    SWORD. 

honor  of  the  approaching  magnate,  but,  individually, 
members  of  the  guard,  old  "Permanent  Party"  men, 
were  reaching  for  their  rifles  and  straightening  out 
stray  kinks  in  their  clothing  against  the  summons, 
for  it  was  a  fad  at  the  Island  that  the  guard  should 
be  in  ranks  when  the  noon  boat  came  over  from  town, 
and  the  noon  boat  to-day  was  evidently  loaded  to  the 
guards.  All  this  they  noted  from  the  veranda  of  the 
old  "mess"  and  then,  back  came  Orderly  Flannigan 
on  the  run.  But  the  halt  and  salute  were  precise  and 
rigid  before  he  delivered  himself  of  his  message: 

"The  Meejor's  compliments  to  the  adjutant,  sorr, 
and  he'll  be  at  the  office  directly." 

"I'll  see  you  again  before  you  go,  Mr.  Rutherford," 
said  Webb.  "There's  a  matter  I  much  wish  to  ask 
you  about,"  and  with  a  touch  of  his  forage-cap  he 
strode  away,  Cutting  speedily  following. 

For  a  few  moments  the  two  friends,  chums  of  col- 
lege days,  sat  there  in  the  shade  of  the  veranda, 
silently  studying  the  marvelous  picture  before  them. 
They  had  had  their  talk  and  there  was  little  more  to 
be  said.  Barclay's  secret  was  no  secret  to  Gerald. 
Well  he  knew  the  explanation  of  the  cloud  that 
seemed  to  have  fallen  upon  the  life  of  his  cherished 
friend — knew  and  was  powerless  to  aid,  for,  though 
Ethel  had  never  spoken  to  him  of  Barclay  save  as  a 
man  she  frankly  liked  and  would  gladly  help  to  happi- 
ness, the  brother  well  understood,  as  did  Barclay,  too, 
that  it  was  only  a  frank,  friendly,  girlish  liking.  Play- 
mates in  childhood's  hour,  they  had  grown  up  together, 


AN    ARREST    EVADED.  105 

seeing  each  other  day  after  day  until  her  visit  to 
Europe,  and  never  once  had  she  known  the  faintest 
response  to  the  love  that  seized  upon  and  possessed 
his  soul  when  the  bonnie  lassie  blossomed  out  as  the 
lovely  and  winsome  debutante.  The  hopelessness  of 
his  suit  was  accentuated  by  the  misfortunes  of  his 
father's  house  and  the  further  complication  that  fol- 
lowed upon  his  intimacy  with  Wallis.  It  had  cost 
him  over  two  thousand  dollars  to  redeem  the  notes  of 
hand  that  he  had  given  the  captain  in  the  course  of 
the  early  spring,  and  Wallis  had  pressed  for  payment 
at  a  time  when  not  a  dollar  could  be  had  from  the 
father.  It  was  Gerald  who  had  gladly  come  to  the 
rescue,  though  he  hated  to  think  his  money  was  going 
into  such  unscrupulous  hands.  Barclay's  sad  face  and 
subdued  manner,  even  now  when  he  had  his  heart's 
desire  and  his  commission  in  the  regular  service,  told 
plainly  how  his  combined  sorrows  had  worn  upon  him, 
and  Gerald's  big,  boyish,  loyal  heart  grieved  over  the 
change  that  had  overmastered  his  friend. 

He  was  studying  Barclay  furtively  as  they  sat  there 
in  the  warm  noontide  of  mid  July.  Barclay  had  been 
striving  to  get  orders  to  join  the  army  in  front  of 
Washington,  for  it  was  evident  that  McDowell  was 
about  to  move  and  stirring  times  were  expected — 
something  to  wipe  out  the  humiliation  of  Big  Bethel 
and  our  luckless  first  encounter  on  the  Sacred  Soil — 
but  Barclay  had  proved  a  most  efficient  officer  in 
licking  the  new  material  into  shape,  and  Blunt  would 
not  consent  to  let  him  go. 


io6  A    BROKEN    SWORD. 

Sitting  there  they  watched  with  languid  interest 
the  snappy  parade  of  the  guard,  the  honors  to  the 
officer-of-the-day,  and  then  the  arrival,  one  by  one, 
of  the  barge's  passengers  at  the  head  of  the  stone 
stairway.  Two  or  three  residents  on  the  Island  were 
passed  by  the  vigilant  corporal  without  detention. 
Two  or  three  others  presented  cards  which  he  sent 
at  once  to  the  officer-of-the-guard,  and  then  came  a 
slender,  soldierly  form,  spare,  erect  and  sinewy,  that, 
even  at  the  distance,  Mr.  Barclay  recognized  at  once. 
"There,"  said  he,  "is  Major  Forno.  Now,  watch!" 

Rutherford  gazed  as  bidden.  They  saw  him  stand- 
ing conspicuous  in  a  black  frock  coat  of  foreign  cut, 
full,  peg-top  trowsers  of  a  pearl  gray  color,  a  white 
necktie,  and  a  broad-brimmed  Panama  hat — patiently 
submitting  to  the  questions  of  the  corporal;  saw  him 
courteously  raise  his  hat  and  bow  when  accosted  by 
the  young  officer-of-the-guard.  "  He  must  be  over 
forty,"  said  Barclay.  "His  moustache  and  imperial 
are  already  turning  gray.  Just  see  how  he  stands. 
Wouldn't  you  know  that  man  had  been  a  soldier?" 

Young  Rutherford  had  risen,  and,  with  keen  inter- 
est in  his  eyes,  was  staring  across  the  intervening 
pyramids  and  stacks  of  cannonballs.  Suddenly  he 
turned.  "Come  on,  Ned.  I  want  to  have  a  closer 
look  at  that  fellow,"  said  he.  So  together  they  passed 
through  the  mess  and  ante-rooms  to  the  southern 
front  and,  following  the  old  brick  wall,  went  swiftly 
round  toward  the  guardhouse,  only  to  find  Forno  had 
gone. 


AN   ARREST    EVADED.  107 

"He  said  he  knew  the  way  to  Wallis's  tent,"  said 
the  officer-of-the-guard,  "and  I  let  him  go.  I  had 
no  orders  to  the  contrary.  But  I've  sent  the  names 
up  to  post  headquarters.  There  were  others  to  see 
Wallis." 

"Let  us  wait  a  moment  and  watch  Webb,"  sug- 
gested Barclay,  in  a  low  tone.  "He's  going  to  have  a 
look  at  Forno  unless  I'm  mistaken."  So  they  saun- 
tered slowly  back  toward  the  office,  and  presently, 
surely  enough,  the  bearded  adjutant  came  forth,  and 
with  quick,  springy  step  went  briskly  away  toward  the 
little  clump  of  officers'  tents  pitched  on  the  north- 
ward slope  of  the  glacis,  and  the  two  friends  followed. 

Wallis  occupied  the  second  tent  on  the  row  and, 
the  walls  being  triced  up  for  air,  it  was  easy  to  see 
that  he  had  visitors  before  the  party  reached  the  front. 
Two  men  were  seated  on  his  camp  cot,  Forno  and  a 
stranger,  while  Wallis  himself,  standing  at  his  little 
camp  desk,  was  stowing  away  some  papers  when 
Webb's  tall  figure  loomed  up  at  the  entrance  and 
Webb's  deep  voice  was  heard: 

"Your  pardon,  gentlemen,  but  I  have  received  in- 
structions concerning  Major  Forno  and  should  be 
glad  to  speak  with  him  a  moment." 

"Certainly,  sir,"  was  Forno's  prompt  reply  as  he 
arose  and  stepped  quickly  forth.  He  never  noticed 
the  young  officer  who,  with  his  civilian  friend,  had 
halted  irresolute  a  dozen  paces  away.  He  was  look- 
ing straight  at  Webb,  a  shade  of  anxiety  in  his  deep- 
set,  gray  eyes.  As  for  Webb,  he  had  drawn  a  paper 


io8  A    BROKEN    SWORD. 

from  a  long,  official  envelope,  and  his  eyes  flitted  from 
the  written  page  to  the  slender  figure  before  him,  as 
though  comparing  some  description  with  an  interest- 
ing personality.  Forno  saw  it  and  the  color  surged 
up  to  his  temples,  but  neither  by  look  nor  word  did 
he  offer  objection  or  remonstrance.  It  was  some  sec- 
onds before  Webb  spoke  again.  When  he  did  there 
was  something  in  the  tone  that  told  of  both  doubt 
and  disappointment. 

"Pardon  me,  major,"  said  he,  "but  we  have  received 
orders  concerning  a  certain  Southern  officer  said  to 
be  masquerading  around  here  in  civilian  dress.  I  am 
glad  to  say  you  in  no  way  answer  his  description." 

"You  have  my  word  of  honor,  suh,"  said  Forno, 
with  grave  dignity,  "that  I  hold  no  commission  in  our 
Confederate  service — at  least,  not  yet.  My  business, 
though  urgent,  is  entirely  private  and  personal." 

"And  the  title? — major?"  queried  Webb. 

Forno  smiled  gravely.  "That  is  what  might  be 
called  a  Southernism.  I  never  attained  that  rank, 
suh." 

"Yet  you  have  served,  I'd  swear  to  it,"  said  Webb. 

"Yes,  as  a  boy  at  Buena  Vista — and  later  I  saw  a 
campaign  or  two — abroad." 

Webb  touched  his  forage-cap.  "You  have  lifted  a 
load  from  my  shoulders,  sir,  and  now,  as  your  friend 
Mr.  Wallis  cannot  do  so,  I  trust  that  I  may  be  per- 
mitted to  tender  you  the  hospitality  of  the  mess.  Will 
you  not  lunch  with  us  to-day?  Permit  me  to  intro- 
duce myself.  My  name  is  Webb/' 


AN    ARREST    EVADED.  109 

Forno  raised  his  Panama  and  bowed  with  cavalier 
grace.  "I  thank  you  sincerely,  suh,  but  I  should 
hardly  like  to  leave  Mr.  Wallis.  In  fact,  we  were 
planning  a  little  luncheon  here — al  fresco.  Mr.  Sout- 
ter,  who  is  with  me,  had  a  basket  filled  this  morning 
at  Delmonico's.  Mr.  Wallis's  servant  has  gone  for 
the  necessary  tableware." 

"As  you  please,  Major  Forno,  but  I  shall  renew  the 
invitation  later.  You  may  find  it  convenient  to  visit 
us  before  you  return,  and,  as  I  may  not  be  there,  let 
me  present" — and  here  Webb  turned  and  signalled — 
"my  friend  Mr.  Barclay  of  the  — teenth  Infantry. 
Barclay,  Major  Forno,"  whereat  again  Panama  and 
forage-cap  were  raised,  and  with  much  grave  cour- 
tesy the  two  shook  hands. 

"Recently  of  the  Seventh,  if  I  mistake  not,  Mr. 
Barclay?"  said  Forno,  his  fine  face  lighting  with  a 
pleasant  smile.  "I  had  the  good  fortune  to  meet  sev- 
eral of  your  comrades  when  you  visited  Richmond  a 
few  years  ago.  You  probably  remember  John  Coch- 
rane's  speech." 

"I  was  not  with  the  Seventh  at  that  time,  major," 
was  Barclay's  quiet  answer.  "Indeed,  I  only  squeezed 
in  last  April  in  place  of  a  friend  who  couldn't  go.  Let 
me  present  him — Mr.  Rutherford." 

Whereat  Gerald's  light  straw  hat  was  uplifted  from 
his  light,  straw-colored  hair,  and  his  slender  white 
hand  was  half  extended  in  civil  greeting. 

But  only  half,  for  at  sound  of  the  name  and  sight 
of  the  man  every  vestige  of  color  fled  from  Forno's 


no  A    BROKEN    SWORD. 

face.  His  hat  slowly  settled  back  upon  his  head;  his 
lips,  twitching  painfully,  seemed  striving  to  frame  a 
word.  In  astonishment  Webb  and  Barclay  stared  at 
him  a  moment  until  he  broke  silence.  Hoarse  and 
barely  audible  his  voice  was  heard,  and  he  slightly 
reeled  as  though  dizzy. 

"Pardon — but — the  sun,  I  think.  I'm  subject  to 
these — "  and,  abruptly  turning,  Forno  plunged  be- 
neath the  spreading  "fly"  and  dove  into  the  shaded 
shelter  of  the  nearest  tent. 

That  night  there  came  a  "wire"  from  Washington 
that  set  Blunt  to  swearing.  He  was  directed  to  order 
Lieutenant  Eugene  Wallis  to  report  in  person  without 
delay  and  in  arrest,  to  the  adjutant  general  of  the 
army. 

"Damn  him !"  said  Blunt.  "He'll  get  there  among 
all  his  father's  old  friends,  Northern  and  Southern, 
and  between  them  they'll  coax  old  Cameron  to  let  him 
off  again  when  he  should  have  been  tried  here.  How- 
ever, give  him  the  order,  Webb,  and  tell  him  to  go 
first  thing  in  the  morning." 

In  ten  minutes  Webb  was  back,  his  eyes  glittering, 
his  face  pale. 

"Mr.  Wallis  cleared  out,  sir,  two  hours  ago,  bag 
and  baggage.  He  has  more  than  broken  his  arrest — 
he  has  deserted." 


CHAPTER    IX. 

BETWEEN    TWO    DUTIES. 

THREE  months  went  by  without  other  tidings 
of  the  missing  officer  than  that  he  had  been 
seen  and  recognized  in  Richmond  and  had  offered  his 
sword  to  the  South  without  the  formality  of  first  sub- 
mitting his  resignation  to  the  United  States.  Very 
possibly  he  well  knew  that,  tendered  under  a  cloud  of 
charges,  that  resignation  would  not  be  accepted. 
Lorna  Brenham  came  no  more  to  Governor's  Island. 
Major  Forno  had  disappeared  from  the  New  York 
Hotel  and  Jimmy  Granger  was  doing  his  best  to  keep 
in  society,  yet  out  of  difficulty.  The  main  trouble 
with  him,  said  loyal  girls  of  Gotham,  was  that  he  had 
not  the  courage  of  his  convictions. 

"If  you  are  such  a  determined  Southerner,  go  and 
fight  with  them.  Then  we'll  have  some  respect  for 
you,"  said  Ethel  Rutherford,  one  summer  night  at  the 
Leroys',  and  most  remarkably  had  that  hitherto  reti- 
cent and  retiring  young  woman  developed  since  the 
Seventh  came  back  from  the  war.  She  who  had  been 
content,  apparently,  to  hold  a  modest  place  in  social 
matters  and  to  spend  hours  in  reading  to  her  invalid 
mother,  had  become  an  avowed  agitator  in  matters 
both  military  and  political.  She  had  organized  sew- 

iii 


ii2  A    BROKEN    SWORD. 

ing  circles  by  the  dozen,  whereby  the  regiments  at 
the  front  were  being  deluged  with  the  output  of  a 
thousand  fair  fingers — "Havelocks"  innumerable, 
which  the  wondering  soldiery  received,  searched  for 
notes,  bank  or  billet  doux,  and  wore  not  more  than 
once  or  twice — night-caps,  needle  cases,  woolen  mitts, 
with  a  slit  for  the  trigger  finger;  worsted  shoes  for 
tired  soldier  feet  to  wear  when  the  day's  march  was 
done;  cholera  bands,  camphor  bags,  coffee  cakes  (a 
curious  compound  purporting  to  be  sugar,  cream  and 
coffee  in  due  proportion — each  cube  dissolved  in  a 
quart  of  hot  water  warranted  to  produce  a  full  mea- 
sure of  fragrant,  steaming,  stimulating  beverage) — 
what  did  not  these  blessed  women  send'to  the  boys  in 
blue  the  first  summer  and  winter  of  the  war?  Then, 
too,  Miss  Ethel  had  become  a  vehement  patriot,  a 
self-appointed  chairwoman  of  the  household  commit- 
tee on  the  conduct  of  the  war.  Oh,  what  a  fiery  rak- 
ing fell  to  the  lot  of  the  rector  of  Grace  church  that  hot 
August  Sunday  when,  all  inadvertently,  he  omitted 
the  prayer  for  the  President !  And,  though  it  was  one 
of  the  hottest  Augusts  known  to  Gotham  history, 
families  that  hitherto  had  spent  that  month  at  New- 
port or  Long  Branch  found  it  to  their  better  inter- 
est to  remain  behind  closed  shutters  in  their  city 
homes  the  livelong  day,  and  to  take  the  evening  air 
upon  the  brownstone  steps.  "What's  the  use  of  going 
to  the  seashore?"  said  the  girls.  "There  are  no  men 
there — at  least,  none  worth  knowing."  Truth  to  tell, 
many  of  the  girls  were  not  a  little  bored  by  Miss 


BETWEEN   TWO    DUTIES.  113 

Ethel's  persistence  and  fiery  patriotism,  though  her 
castigation  of  Jim  Granger  met  their  almost  un- 
divided approval.  Truth  to  tell,  Jim  Granger  more 
than  once  had  screwed  his  courage  to  the  sticking 
point  and  sought  to  talk  his  ageing  father  into  giv- 
ing him  a  substantial  outfit  and  a  lump  sum  in  gold 
and  letting  him  join  the  staff  of  a  Georgia  general  in 
front  of  Washington;  but  that  was  only  when  Lorna 
Brenham  talked  of  going  home  to  be  a  nurse.  Bull 
Run  put  an  end  to  her  plans  in  that  direction.  "Why 
go  South,  when  within  a  few  weeks  the  South  will  be 
here  in  full  force?"  was  the  exultant  question  of  the 
coterie  at  Cranston's.  There  may  have  been  other 
reasons,  but  at  all  events,  Lorna  went  not  at  all.  No 
more  did  Granger;  and  after  that  woful  lesson  had 
opened  the  eyes  of  the  North  to  the  fact  that  a  war 
in  grim  earnest  was  upon  them,  the  line  between  the 
Union  and  Southern  sympathizers  was  far  more 
sharply  drawn,  and  when,  late  in  the  summer,  Bernard 
Hoyt  reappeared  in  Gotham,  wearing  the  brand  new 
bars  of  his  captaincy  of  cavalry,  ordered  thither  to 
aid  in  the  organization  and  instruction  of  a  regiment 
of  volunteer  cavalry  and  occupying  once  more  his  old 
quarters  around  the  corner  from  the  Rutherford  man- 
sion, he  found  social  circles  vastly  changed,  and  Ethel 
always  too  busy  and  absorbed  in  her  new,  self-im- 
posed duties  to  have  much  time  for  him.  All  day 
long,  and  day  after  day,  she  was  flitting  from  one 
meeting  or  sewing  bee  to  another.  Then,  as  the  first 
wounded  were  brought  home — members  of  the  Four- 


ii4  A    BROKEN    SWORD. 

teenth,  Sixty-ninth,  Seventy-first  and  Seventy-ninth 
regiments  of  New  York  militia — she  and  the  sister- 
hood she  had  enlisted  obtained  the  addresses  of  the 
men  (for  as  yet  no  general  military  hospitals  had  been 
established  on  Manhattan  Island),  and  the  attending 
surgeons  were  embarrassed  by  the  offers  of  aid  and 
the  cabloads  of  dainties  with  which  they  were  bom- 
barded. Fine  was  the  scorn  with  which  Ethel  and 
her  associates  referred  to  the  hapless  home  battery, 
that,  demanding  its  discharge  on  the  expiration  of  its 
three  months'  service,  just  as  McDowell's  advance 
was  fording  Bull  Run,  "marched  to  the  rear  to  the 
sound  of  the  enemy's  cannon,"  as  that  irate  com- 
mander most  justly  expressed  it. 

Those  were  days,  too,  in  which  Hortense,  the 
housekeeper,  declared  that  life  was  made  a  burden  to 
her,  for  Ethel's  maid  caught  cold  and  broke  down 
from  exposure  and  incessant  running  about,  and  Hor- 
tense was  not  only  compelled  to  supervise  the  pack- 
ing and  sending  of  basketloads  of  broths,  creams,  jel- 
lies, whips  and  other  comfits  supposed  to  be  of  special 
benefit  to  convalescent  warriors,  but  time  and  again 
had  to  go  with  her  now  restless  and  imperious  young 
mistress  when  her  Gallic  heart  was  anything  but  in 
the  work.  Foreign  born,  Southern  bred,  she  had 
come  into  the  household  through  the  Gordon  connec- 
tion and  had  far  more  interest  in  the  Georgia  friends 
of  her  youth  than  in  these  of  the  austere,  unemotional 
North.  There  had  been  a  wavering  week  when  it  was 
rumored  that  LeGal's  red-legged  regiment  of  militia 


BETWEEN    TWO    DUTIES.  115 

—the  French  Fifty-fifth — was  to  take  the  field  for 
liberty  and  union,  but  save  through  de  Trobriand — 
their  gallant  lieutenant  colonel — little  was  ever  heard 
of  it  again,  and  Hortense  reverted  to  the  original 
status — that  of  a  secret  sympathizer  with  the  South. 
But  Ethel  had  one  assiduous  and  devoted  backer  in 
the  domestic  establishment,  and  that  was  Forbes,  the 
butler.  Day  or  night,  at  any  hour,  alert,  silent, 
watchful,  that  invaluable  servitor  seemed  ever  ready 
to  come  and  go  at  her  bidding.  Indeed  he  was  for- 
ever coming,  prolific  in  proffer  and  suggestion.  More 
than  once  Gerald,  letting  himself  in  with  his  latchkey 
and  speeding  up  the  stairs  three  at  a  bound  to  his 
mother's  room,  had  been  surprised  to  find  Forbes  in 
the  upper  hall,  when  his  bailiwick  was  really  confined 
to  the  main  floor  (on  which  were  the  parlor,  library 
and  dining  room,  with  the  silver  and  china  closets, 
the  butler's  pantry  and  the  broad,  glass-enclosed  back 
porch),  the  basement,  in  which  was  his  own  immacu- 
late apartment  (Forbes's  little  family  being  main- 
tained in  modest  comfort  around  near  Sixth  Avenue 
and  Thirteenth  Street),  and  then  of  course,  the  fa- 
mous Rutherford  cellar,  which  was  his  exclusive 
charge.  To  Gerald's  look  of  surprise  and  impatient 
question,  Forbes  most  respectfully  explained  that  he 
was  in  search  of  Miss  Rutherford  to  report  the  result 
of  certain  missions  entrusted  to  him.  Forbes  begged 
pardon  for  presuming  to  mention  it  to  Mr.  Ruther- 
ford, but  he  feared  some  of  Miss  Rutherford's  soldier 
patients  were  imposing  on  Miss  Rutherford's  charity 


n6  A    BROKEN    SWORD. 

and  goodness  in  the  matter  of  the  port,  Bordeaux  and 
Burgundy  Miss  Rutherford  had  ordered  sent  to  Ser- 
geant Shaughnessy  of  the  Sixty-ninth,  shot  in  the 
arm,  and  to  other  semi-invalided  heroes  who  found 
vast  comfort  in  the  life  giving  juice  of  the  sun-warmed 
grapes  of  the  Cote  d'Or  and  the  Douro — it  was  so 
easily  swapped  for  more  than  its  bulk  in  poteen.  Ger- 
ald was  spending  hours  each  day  now,  watching  with 
eager  and  envious  eyes  Captain  Hoyt's  vigorous,  sol- 
dier work  with  his  would-be  troopers.  Gerald  was 
spending  other  hours  gently,  gradually,  persistently 
besieging  his  unhappy  mother  with  plea  and  argu- 
ment to  the  effect  that  his  father's  son  should  not  b© 
dawdling  here  in  the  luxury  of  home  when  every  friend 
he  had  in  the  world  was  wearing  the  sword  of  Uncle 
Sam — when  nearly  every  family  was  represented  at 
the  front.  Well  did  the  poor  lady  read  the  restless 
heart  of  her  boy  and  long  did  she  strive  to  hold  him, 
but,  as  week  followed  week  and  he  grew  more  hag- 
gard, nervous,  irritable,  unhappy,  she  felt  her  last  hold 
slipping,  slipping  away  and  in  anguish  unspeakable 
realized  that  she  was  only  postponing  the  evil  hour — 
that  sooner  or  later  his  dogged  Rutherford  persist- 
ence and  obstinacy  would  win  the  day. 

But  time  and  again  as  the  autumn  wore  on  and  all 
was  quiet  on  the  Potomac,  Gerald  brought  Bernard 
Hoyt,  nothing  loth,  to  dinner.  'Mrs.  Rutherford  was 
keeping  her  room  much  of  the  time  now,  and  but 
rarely  appeared  at  table.  Ethel,  therefore,  did  the 
honors  and  listened  with  eager  interest  to  all  that  the 


BETWEEN    TWO    DUTIES.  117 

young  cavalryman  had  to  say  of  the  war.  She,  in 
her  boundless  impatience  and  enthusiasm,  was  for 
having  McClellan  and  his  half  drilled,  half  disciplined 
brigades  push  on  to  Richmond  before  the  winter  set 
in.  "They  should  be  as  well  drilled  and  disciplined 
as  the  Southern  volunteeers,"  said  she,  "and  surely 
they  are  more  numerous!" 

"They  are  pitted  against  a  united  people,  defend- 
ing their  own  homes,  fighting  on  their  own  ground, 
and  under  most  skillful  leaders,"  said  Hoyt,  his  blue 
eyes  dwelling  on  the  softly  flushing  cheek  and  drink- 
ing in  the  beauty  of  her  glowing  face.  "McClellan 
can  afford  no  defeat,  you  understand,  and  is  work- 
ing now  might  and  main  and  night  and  day  to  make 
his  army  invincible.  Be  patient,  Miss  Ethel.  And 
then,  too,"  he  added  with  a  smile,  "remember  that  we 
have  hardly  any  cavalry  as  yet,  and  to  whip  the  South 
we  must  have  horsemen  as  many  and  as  good  as 
theirs.  It  will  take  time — much  time,  I  fear — and 
they  have  not  yet  begun  to  realize  it  at  Washington." 

"You  will  be  weaning  Gerald  from  the  Seventh  and 
making  a  trooper  of  him,  Captain  Hoyt,"  said  she,  half 
wistfully,  half  dreading.  "I  know  he's  mad  to  go — 
but  for  mother." 

"Mad — yes,"  broke  in  Gerald,  in  nervous  irritation. 
"If  it  weren't  for  Hoyt  here  I  would  go  mad  surely 
enough.  Every  man  I  know,  worth  knowing,  has 
gone.  Every  loyal  name  except  ours  is  borne  on  the 
rolls — some  of  them  six  times  over.  I  envy  Barclay, 
Benkard,  Bronson,  Cutting — why,  I  could  call  the  roll 


n8  A    BROKEN    SWORD. 

right  down  the  alphabetical  list  of  the  old  company 
and  show  you  man  after  man  commanding  his  own 
company  now  in  the  regulars  or  volunteers  or  riding 
as  aide  to  some  wide-awake  general  far  at  the  front! 
Look  at  them — Lydigs,  Smedbergs,  Winthrops,  every 
unmarried  man  of  the  name  gone!  Look  at  the  Le- 
roys — every  ablebodied  fellow  of  the  tribe — two  gen- 
erations of  'em — sons  and  grandsons — all  off  to  the 
war,  and  we  haven't  so  much  as  one!  I'm  ashamed 
to  show  at  the  club — or  anywhere,  by  Jove! — and  it's 
— it's  simply  killing  me!"  And  with  that  poor  Ger- 
ald sprang  from  his  chair,  nearly  colliding  with  the 
statuesque  Forbes,  and  tore  away  out  of  the  room. 

Ethel's  eyes  were  brimming  and  for  a  moment  she 
could  not  speak.  Hoyt,  sympathetic,  yet  well  aware  of 
Dr.  Tracy's  declaration  of  what  it  might  cost  the 
mother  if  Gerald  were  to  insist  on  volunteering,  held  his 
peace.  It  was  she  who  broke  the  silence. 

"I  believe  he  talks  of  it  in  his  sleep — when  he  sleeps 
at  all,"  said  she  at  last,  her  downcast  eyes  unlifting  for 
a  moment  and  shooting  one  swift  glance  at  him. 
"Could  he  really — would  you  help  him — get  a  commis- 
sion in  the  cavalry  you  are  drilling?" 

"I  could  at  least  try,  but  the  easiest  way — the  best 
way — would  be  for  him  to  do  it  himself.  Three  troops 
are  yet  unfilled.  If  he  could  enlist  fifteen  good  sound 
men  it  would  insure  his  being  made  a  second  lieuten- 
ant. All  he  needs  is  a  start.  But,  Miss  Ethel — your 
mother?" 

The  brimming  eyes  were  again  downcast,  the  heavily 


BETWEEN    TWO    DUTIES.  119 

fringed  lids  in  violent  action.  The  girl  was  struggling 
against  the  surging,  unshed  tears.  She  strove  to 
answer,  but  her  voice  broke,  and  hurriedly  she  rose, 
faltered  an  excuse  and  fled  through  the  heavily  cur- 
tained archway  to  the  darker  library  beyond.  Hoyt's 
first  impulse  was  to  follow,  but  again  the  old  restrain- 
ing thought,  the  stubborn  soldier  pride  withheld  him. 
What  right  had  he,  what  excuse  had  he,  to  seek  her  at 
such  a  moment,  when  in  her  weight  of  care  and  distress 
on  her  mother's  account,  her  sympathy  for  Gerald,  her 
intense  love  and  enthusiasm  for  the  cause  of  the  Union, 
and,  in  her  deep  and  obvious  emotion,  she  might  well 
need  to  lean  on  his  strength — she  an  heiress — he  a 
penniless  trooper  with  his  way  yet  to  be  won  ?  At  least 
there  was  no  excuse  for  remaining  longer  at  the  table. 
He  did  not  smoke.  He  arose  and  slowly  followed,  let- 
ting the  heavy  curtains  fall  behind  him  and  leaving  the 
brilliantly  lighted  dining  room  to  Forbes,  who  quickly 
tiptoed  to  the  curtained  archway;  peered  one  instant 
between  the  heavy  folds;  sprang  back;  extinguished 
several  of  the  gas  jets  over  the  table  and  side-board; 
stepped  catlike  to  the  broad  porch  at  the  rear,  and  set  a 
candle  with  a  brilliant  reflector  on  an  iron  flower-stand 
at  the  northward  end.  The  white  waxlight  was  thrown 
out  over  the  vista  of  rear  doors  and  windows  of  the  side- 
street  houses.  Then  he  returned  to  the  sheltering  folds 
to  listen  further,  but  there  was  nothing  to  reward  his 
vigilance.  Ethel  had  hurried  after  Gerald  only  to  find 
that  he  had  bolted  down  the  avenue  toward  the  Bre- 
voort.  Hoyt,  still  following,  heard  the  swish  of  her 


120  A    BROKEN    SWORD. 

expansive  skirts  as  she  sped  upstairs  to  her  own  room, 
and  noiselessly  he  let  himself  out  through  the  marble- 
tiled  vestibule;  softly  closed. the  door  behind  him;  and, 
catching  sight  of  Gerald's  retreating  form,  went  swiftly 
in  pursuit.  He  had  heard  news  that  day — news  that 
he  had  meant  they  should  not  learn  through  him,  but  in 
a  very  different  way,  yet  news  that  might  do  much  to 
banish  Gerald's  misery,  possibly  give  him  a  happier 
night.  Hoyt's  rule  for  many  a  year  had  been  based 
on  the  old  adage  that  only  a  fool  tells  what  he's  going 
to  do,  but  it  was  a  rule  that  had  its  exception.  Some- 
thing must  be  done  to  rouse  Gerald  from  the  slough  of 
his  deep  despond. 


CHAPTER  X. 

HIS    SUPERIOR    OFFICER. 

U/^1  OOD  riddance  to  bad  rubbish,"  was  the  verdict 
VJT  at  the  Island  when,  as  months  rolled  On,  the 
desertion  of  Eugene  Wallis  had  become  an  accepted 
fact.  But  there  was  one  man,  at  least,  on  whom  the 
stigma  of  the  lad's  disgrace  fell  with  crushing  force — 
his  elder  brother  Harold. 

For  weeks  that  brilliant  commander  of  the  infant 
regiment  of  regular  infantry,  shunning  all  verbal  men- 
tion of  the  matter  nearest  his  heart,  seemed  devoting 
himself  assiduously  to  the  duty  of  drilling  and  teaching 
his  new-made  officers  and  men.  No  one  dreamed  of  the 
hours  of  anguish  and  distress  he  spent  between  the 
darkness  and  the  dawn.  He  knew  well,  within  the  fort- 
night following  Eugene's  reckless  breach  of  arrest  and 
mad-brained  desertion,  just  where  he  was  and  what  he 
was  doing.  He  knew  because  he  had  means  of  knowing 
denied  the  commanding  officer  at  Governor's  Island  and 
even  the  venerable  Secretary  of  War*  He  knew,  and 
had  sent  that  erring  brother  a  scathing  letter  of  rebuke, 
yet  with  it  a  substantial  sum  in  gold.  He  attended 
dinner  after  dinner,  dance  after  dance,  ball  after  ball, 
welcomed  and  feted  in  the  most  exclusive  houses  in 
the  capital.  He  entertained  lavishly — his  officers  con- 

121 


122  A    BROKEN    SWORD. 

tributing  far  more  than  warranted  by  the  means  of  most 
of  them — the  score  of  invited  guests  that  came  each 
morning,  with  throngs  of  the  unbidden,  to  watch  the 
beautiful  battalion  drill  of  the  — teenth  and  to  admire 
the  commander's  form,  ringing  voice  and  splendid 
horsemanship.  Only  Harry  Clitz  could  begin  to  handle 
a  battalion  like  Wallis,  said  the  experts,  and  men  who 
hated  him  for  his  superior,  supercilious  manner  and 
distrusted  him  for  his  past  peccadillos  and  present  asso- 
ciations, came  and  studied  his  methods  and  went  away 
wondering  no  more  that  the  line  officers  of  the  — teenth 
were  so  enthusiastic  in  his  praise.  The  regiment  was 
rapidly  becoming  the  "show  battalion"  in  all  the  cir- 
cling camps  or  the  wooden  barracks  about  Washington, 
and  the  name  of  Harold  Wallis  was  on  every  lip.  Dash- 
ing, debonair,  distingue  and,  so  said  certain  maids  and 
young  matrons,  "so  romantic" — even  at  the  War  De- 
partment, where  Thomas  still  ruled  and  Cameron 
yielded,  he  had  his  admirers,  while  at  army  head- 
quarters— at  McClellan's — Wallis  was  a  prime  favorite. 
In  all  the  brilliant  staff  with  which  the  brainy  young 
organizer  had  surrounded  himself  that  wonderful 
autumn,  there  were  few  men  except  Marcy  who  knew 
much  of  the  frontier  records  of  the  officers  of  the  Old 
Army.  As  for  rumors  of  lukewarm  allegiance,  of  de- 
clared Southern  sympathies,  of  acknowledged  cor- 
respondence, these  were  things  to  be  ignored,  as  was  the 
well-known  fact  that,  at  this  very  moment,  of  Wallis's 
kith  and  kin,  the  greater  part  were  in  and  of  the  South. 
The  colonel  of  this  not  yet  year  old,  yet  distinguished, 


HIS    SUPERIOR    OFFICER.  123 

regiment,  was  commanding  a  division  of  volunteers  out 
near  Arlington — the  lieutenant  colonel  a  brigade  at 
Chain  Bridge,  both  well  content  that  the  major  should 
be  the  one  to  break  in  the  raw  battalion,  and  though 
Willard's  and  the  War  Department  fairly  bristled  with 
the  stars  and  buttons  of  new-made  brigadiers,  it  is  safe 
to  say  that  few,  if  any,  of  their  number  were  so  well 
known  to  the  populace — civil  or  military — as  the  envied 
and  courted  major  at  the  head  of  the  — teenth. 

But  none  of  these  ever  saw  Harold  Wallis  as  did  one 
faithful  friend,  his  young  adjutant  and  amanuensis,  a 
former  playmate  of  Eugene's,  in  the  bitter  hours  after 
midnight  when  the  major  sat  striving  to  find  a  way  to 
rescue  the  lad  whom  his  dying  mother  had  confided 
to  his  care — whom  long  years  before — in  '46 — his 
soldier-father  had  taken  on  his  knee  and  held  one  mo- 
ment to  his  strong  heart,  then  had  risen,  and,  leading 
the  little  fellow  to  his  tall  brother's  side,  had  solemnly 
said,  "I  may  not  come  back,  my  boys;  be  you  both 
devoted  to  your  country  and  your  mother,  and,  Harold, 
promise  me  that  you  will  shield  and  aid  Eugene  al- 
ways. Something  tells  me  he  will  need  you." 

And  this  was  the  skeleton  in  the  closet  of  the  debonair 
commander  in  these,  the  days  of  his  greatest  glory,  for 
all  social  if  not  official  Washington  seemed  at  his  feet. 
This  was  the  state  of  things  when  there  came  to  him 
one  brilliant  night  in  late  October,  in  the  whirl  and 
crush  of  a  crowded  ballroom,  a  little  note,  accompanied 
by  the  soft,  warning  pressure  of  a  slender,  kid-gloved 
hand,  and  a  pair  of  lovely  eyes  beamed  on  him  sig'- 


i24  A    BROKEN    SWORD. 

nificantly  only  a  second  as  the  fair  girl  went  in  to  supper 
on  the  arm  of  the  French  minister.  Wallis  had  notes 
and  hand  pressures  galore,  but  this — this  meant  some- 
thing far  more  stirring. 

It  was  not  until  half  an  hour  later,  however,  that 
he  could  extract  the  mite  of  a  billet  from  within  the 
palm  of  his  white  glove,  and  by  the  light  of  a  street 
lamp  read  its  contents.  They  were  brief  enough,  but 
sent  the  blood  coursing  through  his  veins,  yet  he  re- 
joined his  companions,  from  whom  he  had  excused  him- 
self just  thirty  seconds,  and  with  all  the  old  airy  non- 
chalance sauntered  down  the  avenue,  tearing  into  little 
fragments  the  flimsy  note  and  scattering  them  on  the 
soft  night  wind,  listening  most  deferentially  the  while 
to  the  words  of  the  venerable  statesman  whom  he  was 
escorting  homeward.  It  was  but  a  few  steps  to  the 
senatorial  mansion.  The  great  man  from  the  Hudson 
bade  his  martial  friends  good-night,  then  Wallis,  re- 
placing his  natty  forage-cap,  turned  on  his  inseparable 
companion — the  young  adjutant : 

"Forney,"  said  he,  "I  wish  you  would  drop  in  at  my 
quarters  when  you  return  to  barracks  and  tell  that  vaga- 
bond of  mine  to  have  my  civilian  clothes  ready.  I  may 
need  them  for  the  day.  Captain  Hulin  can  look  after 
the  passes  and  things,  but  you'd  better  order  drill  by 
company  and — Forney,  see  that  nothing  is  changed  in 
my  absence  and — ah — er — good-night,  my  boy.  I'm 
going  over  to  the — ah — Department." 

And  go  he  did  to,  but  not  into  the  Department.  The 
sentries  saw  and  recognized  the  tall,  slender,  soldierly 


HIS    SUPERIOR   OFFICER.  125 

figure  that  came  striding  down  Seventeenth  and  disap- 
peared northwestward  up  a  dimly  lighted  side  street. 

Neither  he,  however,  nor  Forney,  nor  the  escorted 
senator  saw  what  was  seen  by  an  observant  corre- 
spondent of  a  New  York  journal  who  had  been  "cov- 
ering" the  ball  for  half  an  hour  previous — that  dozens 
of  those  little  white  fragments  fluttering  from  the 
white-gloved  hand,  were  gathered  in  and  carefully 
hoarded  by  one  keen-eyed,  alert  young  fellow,  while 
another  chap  sauntered  guilelessly  along  a  block  behind 
— but  unerringly  on  the  trail  of — the  debonair  major. 
It  set  the  "Harbinger's"  representative  to  thinking,  and 
thinking,  he  too  followed  the  trail,  and  in  ten  minutes' 
walk  overhauled  his  man,  whistling  softly  to  himself 
and,  with  hands  deep  in  his  trousers'  pockets,  wandering 
aimlessly  about  within  range  of  the  one  house  showing 
a  light  in  a  block  some  three  squares  from  the  wrar 
office.  The  scribe  went  swiftly  by,  apparently  indif- 
ferent to  any  consideration  other  than  that  of  getting 
home  and  to  bed ;  popped  round  the  first  corner ;  walked 
steadily,  even  noisily,  a  full  hundred  yards  riverward ; 
then  turned ;  tiptoed  back  and,  peering  cautiously  round 
the  corner,  finally  located  his  detective  friend  leaning 
against  the  tree  box  nearly  opposite  the  dimly-lighted 
windows. 

And  there  they  stayed,  the  watcher  and  the  watched, 
until  from  somewhere  over  Georgetown  way  the  deep, 
mellow  tone  of  a  church  bell  tolled  the  hour  of  three. 
Once  a  cavalry  patrol,  leading  a  squad  of  belated  soldier 
roisterers  to  the  provost  marshal's,  passed  down  the 


126  A    BROKEN    SWORD. 

street,  and  then  as  the  sleuth  saw  fit  to  come  strolling 
toward  him,  the  journalist  took  refuge  under  the  wood- 
en stairway  of  the  old  frame  house  at  the  corner.  Once, 
chatting  in  low  tones  and  marching  at  route  step,  a  "re- 
lief" of  the  guard,  coming  in  from  changing  certain 
outlying  sentries,  trudged  on  toward  the  War  Depart- 
ment, but  never  did  either  of  the  watchers  for  more  than 
half  a  minute  lose  sight  of  the  house  waking  at  this 
unusual  hour,  and  not  five  minutes  after  the  stroke  of 
three  their  vigilance  was  rewarded. 

The  door  opened ;  a  beam  of  faint,  mellow  light  was 
thrown  athwart  the  misty  street;  a  young  man  came 
bounding  down  the  steps  and  hurried  away  southeast- 
ward. In  less  than  twenty-five  minutes  the  lamps  of  a 
hack  shot  into  view  from  Seventeenth  Street  and  were 
speedily  brought  to  a  stand  in  front  of  the  shadowed 
premises.  A  young  man — the  same  young  man — 
sprang  forth ;  was  instantly  admitted  to  the  hallway  and 
very  soon  thereafter  the  door  again  opened ;  Major  Wal- 
lis's  tall  figure  was  seen  against  the  soft  glow  within, 
and  beyond  his,  enveloped  in  a  cloak,  another  form — 
shorter,  but  no  less  martial  than  his — and  somebody 
with  fine,  clear-cut  features,  a  moustache  and  imperial 
a  Vempereur,  was  bowing  bareheaded  and  with  cavalier 
grace  to  some  invisible  somebody  else.  Then  a  soft 
slouch  hat,  with  wide  curving  brim,  was  placed  on  the 
shapely  head.  Then  down  the  steps  came  the  two ;  past 
them  darted  the  young  man  to  the  carriage  door  which, 
with  evident  deference  and  respect,  he  held  open  until 
the  gentlemen  were  seated  therein ;  then  softly  closed  it ; 


HIS    SUPERIOR    OFFICER.  127 

muttered  some  direction  to  the  driver,  and  away  went 
the  hack  by  a  quick  turn  about  and  whirled  to  the  left 
at  the  first  corner — two  lithe,  active  fellows  sprinting 
in  pursuit,  but  giving  up  the  chase  before  the  bounding 
lights  had  flashed  across  Pennsylvania  Avenue. 

When  Lieutenant  Forney,  adjutant  of  the  — teenth 
Infantry  and  of  the  post  of  Greble  Barracks,  entered  his 
office  after  mounting  the  guard  at  eight  A.M.,  he  found 
the  morning  report  book  lying,  as  usual,  on  his  desk, 
together  with  the  customary  array  of  passes,  permits, 
ration  returns,  etc.,  and  was  not  greatly  surprised  to  see 
the  signature  of  the  regimental  and  post  commander 
already  in  its  appropriate  column  on  the  outspread  page. 
That  had  happened  before  when  it  had  pleased  Major 
Wallis  to  absent  himself  on  "urgent  personal  affairs" 
without  the  formality  of  a  leave  of  absence.  Army 
regulations  providing  that  post  commanders  were  em- 
powered to  grant  themselves  leave  not  to  exceed  seven 
days  had  been  suspended  by  War  Department  order  for 
the  time  being — a  necessary  result  of  the  war,  the 
capital  being  approximately  in  a  state  of  siege — and  as 
the  major's  signature  appeared  on  the  report  at  orderly 
hour  he  was  constructively  present  and  for  duty. 

Yet  Thomas,  at  the  adjutant  general's  office,  knew 
better  when  ten  o'clock  came — knew  that  in  civilian 
dress  and  accompanied  by  a  stranger,  also  in  civilian 
dress,  yet  having  a  decidedly  military  air,  Wallis  had 
driven  from  his  quarters  close  to  the  barracks  toward 
six  in  the  morning ;  had  stopped  five  minutes  at  the  old 
National  Hotel — leaving  his  friend  in  the  hack — and 


128  A    BROKEN    SWORD. 

that  later  and  separately  the  two  had  boarded  the  early 
train  for  New  York  at  the  Baltimore  &  Ohio  station. 

When  toward  four  o'clock  in  the  afternoon  an  orderly 
came  trotting  in  to  the  barrack  square  with  a  note 
marked  "Immediate,"  addressed  to  Major  Harold 
Wallis  and  bearing  the  War  Department  brand  on  the 
upper  left-hand  corner,  the  officer-of -trie-day  gravely 
receipted  for  it;  said  it  would  be  delivered  as  soon  as 
the  major  returned,  but  that  he  was  "at  the  moment 
not  in  barracks."  The  orderly  said  he  was  bidden  to 
wait  for  a  reply,  so  the  adjutant  was  hunted  up  and 
found  with  a  jovial  party  of  fellow  subalterns  testing 
the  comparative  merits  of  three  or  four  samples  of 
Monongahela  submitted  for  selection  by  the  mess,  also 
of  the  five  cards  each  held  in  his  hand.  Forney  had 
just  called  a  full  with  an  ace  flush,  and  it  wasn't  the 
note  he  passed  over  the  blanket,  but  the  one  slipped  into 
his  hand  that  made  him  lose  color.  He  quit  the  game 
and  followed  the  grave-faced  captain  into  the  hall. 

"Do  you  know  where  he  is  ?"  asked  the  latter.  "Can 
you  reach  him  by  man,  beast  or  wire?"  By  which  it 
would  seem  that  already  in  the  — teenth  the  major's 
idiosyncrasies  were  known  and,  despite  them,  officers 
and  men  were  attached  to  their  chief. 

"By  wire,  possibly,"  was  Forney's  answer,  as  he  has- 
tily buttoned  his  frock  coat.  Then  he  darted  over  to 
the  office;  took  a  note  sheet  headed  Headquarters 
— teenth  U.  S.  Infantry,  Greble  Barracks,  Washington, 
and  wrote  thereon,  "Major  Wallis  is  not  at  his  quarters 
or  about  the  post.  I  feel  unauthorized  to  open  the  en- 


HIS    SUPERIOR    OFFICER.  129 

closed,  as  it  is  addressed  to  him  personally  and  not  as 
regimental  or  post  commander,"  signed  his  name  as 
adjutant,  popped  missive  and  his  own  note  into  a  larger 
envelope,  bade  the  orderly  give  it  to  the  officer  from 
whom  he  received  his  instructions,  and  then,  sending  a 
drummer  boy  on  the  run  for  his  horse,  held  brief  con- 
fab with  the  officer-of-the-day.  Ten  minutes  later  he 
was  scandalizing  foot  patrols  by  galloping  down  Four- 
teenth Street  toward  Pennsylvania  Avenue,  and  within 
half  an  hour  a  message  was  clicking  over  the  wires  to 
New  York. 

"Major  HAROLD  WALLIS,  U.  S.  A., 

"New  York  Hotel.  (If  not  there  send  to  Union  and 
New  York  Clubs  or  residence  of  G.  Rutherford,  Esq., 
Fifth  Avenue.) 

"Significant  inquiries  from  A.  G.  O.  Suggest  your 
telegraphing  Thomas,  if  not  already  done. 

"FORNEY." 

By  a  roundabout  route,  so  as  to  avoid  the  recently 
ignored  patrols,  the  adjutant  trotted  back  to  the  bar- 
racks, and  by  the  time  he  was  out  of  riding  trousers 
and  into  his  best  uniform  for  parade,  that  War  Depart- 
ment courier  was  again  at  his  door  with  another  note, 
this  time  for  himself.  It  bade  him  report  in  person  to 
the  Adjutant  General  at  9  A.M.  the  following  day,  and, 
in  what  he  termed  a  "blue  funk,"  he  sped  across  the 
hall  in  search  of  a  senior  captain  who  more  than  once 
had  been  his  counselor;  told  him  just  what  had  hap- 
pened and  what  he  had  done,  and  begged  advice,  just 


130  A   BROKEN   SWORD. 

as  the  drums  began  to  rattle  and  resound  through  the 
echoing  quadrangle,  sounding  first  call  for  parade.  The 
captain's  response  was  a  long  whistle  of  doubt  and  dis- 
may, then  the  words,  "By  Jupiter,  His  Highness  has 
hanged  himself  this  time  or  I'm  a  home  guard !"  which 
failed  somehow  to  comfort  the  adjutant. 

Hour  after  hour  that  long  evening  the  youngster 
watched,  waited,  sent  messages  to  the  telegraph  office 
and  prayed  for  the  coming  of  a  reply.  Just  as  "taps" 
was  sounding  on  the  trumpets  of  a  cavalry  squadron 
camped  across  the  street,  a  carriage  drove  into  the  bar- 
rack square  and  a  man  of  middle  height,  rather  spare 
and  angular  and  wearing  an  ill-fitting  military  frock 
coat  flapping  open  over  that  abomination  of  the  soldier 
who  properly  wears  his  uniform — a  civilian  waistcoat — 
stepped  from  the  vehicle  and  briefly  said,  "I  wish  a 
word  with  Adjutant  Forney." 

"That's  me,"  said  Forney,  disdainful  alike  of  syntax 
and  the  stranger,  "will  you  come  in?"  and  ushered  his 
visitor  into  the  office. 

The  newcomer  gazed  dubiously  about  him  a  moment  ; 
went  over  and  closed  the  door  leading  into  the  clerk's 
room;  then  turned  and  began  a  very  deliberate  study 
of  the  younger  man,  looking  him  over  from  head  to  foot. 
Forney  reddened  under  the  scrutiny  with  mingled  irri- 
tation and  impatience.  "Well,  sir,  you  want  some- 
thing. What  is  it?"  said  he. 

"Perhaps  I'd  better  say  I  represent  the  adjutant 
general  and  am  here  by  his  instructions  to  ask  you 
a  question  or  two.  There's  my  credentials,"  and  he 


HIS    SUPERIOR    OFFICER.  131 

handed  the  adjutant  a  folded  paper  which  Forney  gin- 
gerly took,  read,  colored  deeper,  looked  embarrassed, 
coughed  and  returned  with  a  gesture  that  seemed  to 
say,  "Well,  I'm  in  your  hands — go  ahead !"  then  stood 
expectant. 

"When  Major  Wallis  called  you  away  from  the  ball 
last  night  did  he  acquaint  you  with  the  contents  of  a 
note  he  had — in  his  hand  ?" 

"No,"  said  Forney,  shortly. 

"You  knew  it  concerned  you  in  some  way,  did  you 
not?" 

"No,"  shortly  as  before. 

"Yet  your  name  was  the  first  word  in  it."  And  the 
stranger's  eyes  were  very  searching  now. 

"I  know  nothing  whatever  about  it,"  said  Forney, 
bluntly. 

"Look  at  this  and  say  whose  writing  it  is,"  said  the 
elder,  laying  before  him  on  the  plain,  wooden  table  a 
card  on  which  were  pasted  a  number  of  scraps  of  thin 
paper,  fitted  to  each  other  like  the  fragments  of  one  of 
those  dissected  maps  that  were  the  delight  of  our  youth. 

In  mingled  curiosity  and  disinclination  Forney  bent 
and  looked.  Pieced  together,  many  scraps  being  evi- 
dently missing,  the  young  adjutant  made  out  the  fol- 
lowing inscription  in  a  woman's  hand — one  that  more 
than  once  he  had  seen  on  the  major's  desk. 

"Forn  ....  See  .  .  efore  .  .  .  out  fai 
.  .  .  t  once  ....  Need  .  .  est.  .  ate." 

"Well,"  said  the  visitor,  finally,  "what  have  you  to 
say?" 


132  A    BROKEN    SWORD. 

"Nothing,"  was  the  sharp  reply. 

"Does  it  convey  no  idea  to  you?" 

"None  whatever." 

"You  know  the  writer?" 

"Not  from  Adam — or  Eve  rather." 

"Then  I  shall  bother  you  no  more  to-night,  lieuten- 
ant, further  than  to  say  it  is  the  General's  orders  that 
no  mention  be  made  of  this,"  and  taking  up  the  card 
the  officer  started  for  the  door. 

"What  General?"  shouted  Forney  after  him,  irrita- 
tion in  his  tone. 

"The  only  one  to  whom  I  report  outside  the  office  of 
the  Secretary  of  War — General  L.  Thomas,"  was  the 
cool  reply,  and  out  into  the  hall  and  down  the  wooden 
steps  clattered  the  stranger,  leaving  Forney  bewildered. 
Oh,  for  a  word  from  Wallis ! 

But  not  till  midnight  came  that  longed-for  answer, 
characteristic  and  consistent.  Who  ever  heard  Wallis 
admit  himself  either  in  danger  or  in  error  ? 

"Lieutenant  FORNEY,  Greble  Barracks,  Washington. 
Message  received.  No  occasion  for  alarm  or  appeal  to 
Thomas.  If  sent  for  to-morrow  say  the  major  will  do 
himself  honor  to  call  during  day.  H.  W." 

Faithfully  had  the  messenger  made  the  indicated 
round,  fetching  up  at  the  Rutherfords'  last  on  the  list. 
The  man  servant  answering  the  bell  said  the  major  had 
not  been  there  for  months,  but  as  the  lad  turned  away, 
a  portly  personage  in  black  issued  from  underneath  the 


HIS    SUPERIOR    OFFICER.  133 

steps  and  called  to  him.  It  was  then  after  dark,  al- 
most seven,  but  holding  the  yellow  brown  envelope 
near  the  lighted  basement  window  Forbes  read  the 
address. 

"Leave  it  with  me,"  said  he,  "and  I'll  see  that  the 
gentleman  gets  it."  But  this  the  lad  would  not  do, 
in  spite  of  inducements,  and  so  was  bidden  to  say 
that  it  would  be  well  to  come  back  again  toward  ten 
o'clock. 

Just  at  ten  o'clock,  therefore,  the  messenger  returned ; 
found  a  carriage  standing  at  the  curb,  and,  being  ad- 
mitted to  the  vestibule  and  bidden  to  deliver  his  dis- 
patch— the  major  being  now  within  and  engaged  with 
Mrs.  Rutherford — asked  for  a  receipt,  and  thus  having 
to  wait  became  witness  to  a  singular  scene  and  con- 
versation. 

Down  the  broad  carpeted  stairs,  five  minutes  after  his 
arrival,  came  the  tall,  soldierly  form  so  well  known  to 
every  bell  boy  of  the  old  New  York  Hotel,  Forbes  fol- 
lowing with  catlike  steps  at  his  very  heels  and  speak- 
ing in  low  tone,  and  hurriedly,  over  the  major's 
shoulder.  They  had  not  reached  the  marble-tiled  hall- 
way when  brisk  steps  were  heard  without ;  a  key  clicked 
at  the  latch ;  the  front  door  flew  open — "After  you,  sir," 
exclaimed  a  blithe  young  voice,  at  which  both  Wallis 
and  the  butler  visibly  started.  Then  entered  in  undress 
uniform,  a  blue  "circular"  thrown  over  his  shoulders, 
Bernard  Hoyt,  close  followed  by  the  young  head  of  the 
household,  Gerald  Rutherford.  Then  under  the  bril- 
liant gas  jet  four  men,  two  on  a  side,  two  at  the  door- 


134  A    BROKEN    SWORD. 

way,  two  near  the  foot  of  the  spiral  stairs,  stood  staring 
each  at  the  opposite  pair. 

Wallis  was  the  first  to  speak.  Low  and  stern  was 
his  voice,  though  tremulous  with  passion,  as  with  quick, 
impatient  stride  he  crossed  the  intervening  space  and 
stood  squarely  confronting  his  younger  yet  utterly  un- 
daunted antagonist. 

"You  are  the  man  I've  been  seeking  for  three 
months,"  said  he,  all  the  drawl  and  dawdle  gone  from 
voice  and  manner,  a  snap  and  ring  to  every  word. 
"This  is  a  most  fortunate  accident,  yet  I  should  have 
found  you  in  the  morning.  Where,  sir,  can  a  message 
quickest  reach  you  outside  these  walls  ?" 

"From  you,  Major  Wallis,"  was  the  cool,  firm,  self- 
contained  reply,  though  the  speaker's  blue  eyes  were 
blazing,  "nowhere!  Even  if  I  would  accept  a  challenge 
at  a  time  when  my  country  needs  my  life,  I  should  deny 
you  a  meeting.  Now,  sir — move  out  of  my  way." 

"By  heaven!"  cried  Wallis,  for  once  unmanned  and 
beside  himself  with  fury,  yet  even  then  and  there  re- 
membering that  women  lay  within  earshot  and  that  no 
encounter  by  any  possibility  should  occur  at  a  gentle- 
man's fireside.  "Be  a  coward  if  you  will,  but  don't 
tempt  me  to  thrash  you — here.  My  coat,  Forbes,"  he 
ordered,  turning  trembling  with  wrath  to  the  butler. 
Then,  throwing  the  overcoat  over  his  arm,  hat  in  hand, 
he  stepped  a  pace  nearer  his  immovable  foe.  "Make 
way  yourself,  Captain  Hoyt.  It  is  ydur  superior  officer 
who  speaks." 

"You  are  in  error,  Major  Wallis,"  was  the  cool  reply, 


HIS    SUPERIOR    OFFICER.  135 

and  the  dark  cape,  falling  back  from  the  broad  shoulder, 
revealed  the  new,  glistening  strap,  the  silver  spread- 
eagle  within  its  frame  of  gold.  "You  are  speaking  to 
your  superior — Colonel  Hoyt  of  the  — th  New  York 
Cavalry." 


CHAPTER   XL 

WHO   IS   MAJOR  FORNO? 

THE  wintry  days  came  on  in  the  camps  about 
Washington.  The  flag  of  the  South  still  floated 
defiantly  at  Munson's  Hill  and  in  sight  of  the  unfin- 
ished dome  of  the  great  white  capitol.  Infantry  drilled 
hard  by  brigade  or  battalion,  artillery  by  battery  and 
cavalry  by — escort, — it  being  apparently  the  theory  in 
the  minds  of  those  at  the  head  of  matters  military  that 
horse  troops  had  no  higher  function.  It  was  not  the 
first,  nor  was  it  the  last,  time  the  War  Department 
essayed  a  campaign  without  "the  eyes  of  the  army." 
Later  on,  as  in  later  wars,  the  government  sent  its 
squadrons  with  lavish  hand,  but  decidedly  late  in  the 
day. 

And  thus  it  happened  that  that  gallant  regiment  of 
light  dragoons — the  — th  New  York,  Colonel  Hoyt, — 
remained  about  its  wooden  barracks,  and  spent  long 
weeks  practicing  "right  cut"  and  "raise  pistol,"  and 
wondering  when  they  might  hope  to  see  Virginia  or  to 
straddle  a  horse.  Officers  and  men  grow  restless,  not 
to  say  vicious,  under  such  monotonous  inaction.  Col- 
onels have  hard  times  keeping  order  in  their  commands. 
From  shouting  with  joy  at  having  that  accomplished 

136 


WHO    IS    MAJOR    FORNO?  137 

young  regular,  their  zealous  instructor,  placed  at  their 
head  as  colonel,  the  — th  had  gone  to  the  opposite  ex- 
treme of  cursing,  both  loud  and  deep,  the  inflexible 
disciplinarian  who  demanded  that  officers  should  attend 
drills,  roll-calls  and  recitations,  and  men  all  manner  of 
duties  by  day,  and  all  be  in  bed  instead  of  bar-rooms 
by  night. 

It  was  then  that  the  saloon-inspired  writers  of  certain 
journals  began  prating  of  martinets  in  office  and  misery 
in  the  ranks  of  the  gallant  volunteers,  and  that  legis- 
lators at  Albany,  with  other  candidates  in  view,  leveled 
ringing  denunciation  at  West  Point  satraps  in  general 
and  this  one  in  particular ;  encouraged  whereby,  certain 
of  the  disaffected  among  the  commissioned  list  thought 
the  time  ripe  for  rebellion,  and,  by  way  of  giving  the 
colonel  to  understand  that  he  couldn't  run  that  regi- 
ment, deliberately  cut  drill  one  December  afternoon  and 
took  the  adjutant  with  them.  Not  a  sign  did  the  colonel 
give  that  anything  was  amiss.  When  the  officer-of-the- 
day  suggested  that  probably  the  colonel  wouldn't  care 
to  have  parade,  the  adjutant  and  several  officers  being 
away,  the  colonel  replied  that  he  had  for  some  time 
thought  their  places  could  be  better  filled,  and  directed 
Second-Lieutenant  Rutherford  to  act  as  adjutant,  and 
certain  subalterns  to  command  the  four  companies 
whose  captains  were  missing.  The  regiment  was  then 
surprised,  if  not  chagrined,  to  find  that  "young  Tow- 
head"  had  far  more  snap,  style,  and  a  much  better  voice 
and  word  of  command  than  the  Albany-appointed  adju- 
tant whom  Hoyt  had  found  in  office  when  first  assigned 


138  A    BROKEN    SWORD. 

to  duty.  The  regiment  was  not  so  much  surprised,  per- 
haps, to  learn  on  the  morrow  that  four  captains  and  the 
adjutant,  together  with  half  a  dozen  misguided  subal- 
terns, were  ordered  in  close  arrest.  Then  down  came 
angry  assemblymen  from  up  the  Hudson,  and  aldermen 
from  both  sides  of  the  East  River,  and  they  stormed 
among  themselves  and  sent  a  deputation  to  lay  down  the 
law  to  the  colonel,  who  received  them  with  calm  civility, 
but  countered  heavily  by  quoting  laws  that,  being  na- 
tional, were  unknown  to  pothouse  politicians,  and  sent 
the  solons  back  to  the  saloons,  discomfited.  There  was  a 
brief  ebullition  about  the  barracks  that  evening,  owing 
to  fiery  remarks — and  potations — indulged  in  by  certain 
of  the  visitors,  to  the  end  that  two  more  officers  went 
into  arrest,  twenty  men  into  the  guard-house  and  four 
prominent  local  "heelers"  into  outer  darkness,  forbid- 
den to  return  to  the  barrack  square  on  penalty  of  find- 
ing themselves,  with  their  friends,  behind  the  bars. 
Heavens !  Didn't  certain  Brooklyn  and  Gotham  journals 
rave  over  the  High-Handed  Outrage ! ! ! !  Didn't  the 
papers  generally  exploit  the  ringing  resolutions  passed 
by  the  Michael  D.  Groggins  Club,  the  P.  M.  Sheehan 
Assembly,  the  Manhattan  Minute  Men,  and  still  the 
imperturbable  colonel  "stood  pat."  The  legislature 
failed  to  pass  the  vote  of  censure  demanded  by  the  law- 
makers of  the  lower  districts.  A  level-headed  governor 
sent  a  soldier  of  his  staff,  himself  a  power  in  Manhattan 
politics,  to  report  the  situation,  and  the  soldier  went 
back  and  said  the  colonel  was  right,  the  cabal  all  wrong, 
and  then,  rather  than  face  court-martial  or  further 


WHO   IS   MAJOR   FORNO?  139 

service  under  a  man  who  could  make  them  do  what 
they  never  before  had  done — obey,  three  captains  and 
four  lieutenants  resigned.  Others  apologized  and  were 
told  to  take  their,  swords  and  return  to  duty,  and  the 
final  "kick"  and  protest  came  when,  matters  quieting 
down  a  little,  the  colonel  issued  an  order  relieving  First 
Lieutenant  M.  P.  Phelan  from  duty  as  adjutant;  ap- 
pointing First  Lieutenant  Gerald  Rutherford  (recently 
promoted  vice  Lynch,  resigned)  to  succeed  him,  and 
directing  Lieutenant  Phelan  to  report  for  duty  forth- 
with to  Captain  Rasp,  Troop  "K,"  a  veteran  dragoon 
sergeant  who  had  served  ten  years  in  the  regulars  and 
was  the  terror  of  the  laggard  or  the  lax.  Then,  indeed, 
did  there  come  protest,  even  from  official  sources. 
Young  Phelan  was  the  son  of  "Old  Man"  Phelan  who 
swung  the  vote  of  a  whole  ward;  ran  with  Big  Six; 
spent  money  lavishly  at  every  election  and  absorbed  it 
unblushingly  between  times.  Adjutant  Phelan,  said 
the  statesmen,  could  no  more  be  made  to  do  duty  as  any 
other  kind  of  lieutenant  than  could  a  captain  be  reduced 
or  a  major  be  made  captain  by  order  of  the  colonel. 
He  was  appointed  and  commissioned  adjutant,  said 
Phelanites  by  the  hundred,  but  Hoyt  refused  to  be 
Phelanized  and  referred  them  to  the  laws  of  the  United 
States.  An  irate  party  went  on  to  Washington  to  "fix 
the  thing"  with  the  new  War  Secretary — a  good  Demo- 
crat, it  was  said,  and  so  not  past  reasoning  with — and 
came  back  stampeded.  The  new  War  Secretary  told 
them  in  so  many  words  that  the  regiment,  having  been 
mustered  in,  was  no  longer  a  New  York  but  a  national 


140  A    BROKEN    SWORD. 

organization,  and  would  be  governed  by  the  laws  and 
regulations  which  obtained  in  the  army. 

"Moreover,"  said  he,  "I  should  like  to  see  that  colonel 
of  yours, — he  has  the  right  stuff  in  him."  So  Hoyt 
was  sustained  and  the  valiant  "Light  Dragoons"  sub- 
mitted with  modified  sorrow,  and  then,  to  the  exuberant 
joy  of  most  of  that  chastened  command,  there  came 
intimation  that  it  would  be  sent  forthwith  to  Wash- 
ington : — Stanton  seemed  to  think  that  colonel  might  be 
of  use  in  Virginia. 

Three  months  earlier  Hoyt  would  have  welcomed  the 
order.  He  had  been  most  eager  to  go,  and  might  have 
been  spared  very  much  of  all  this  wear  and  tear  had  the 
regiment  been  sent  to  the  front  in  the  first  place.  But 
matters  far  removed  from  the  professional,  yet  appeal- 
ingly  near  to  his  heart,  had  taken  a  strange  turn  in 
Gotham.  Ethel  Rutherford,  who  had  been  so  cordial 
in  her  welcome  when  at  first  he  came  with  Gerald; 
who  had  been  so  grateful  when  he  handed  Gerald  his 
first  commission,  and  who  should  have  been  so  pleased 
and  proud  when  later  this  man,  who  had  proved  himself 
so  fitted  to  command,  had  chosen  her  brother  as  his  con- 
fidential staff  officer  and  given  him  the  most  prominent 
and  desirable  berth  a  lieutenant  could  hold — had  barely 
thanked  him  at  all ;  was  becoming  constrained  and  fitful, 
if  not  actually  cold  and  reserved,  and  this,  too,  when 
her  manner  had  begun  to  give  him  reason  to  hope  that, 
after  all,  a  soldier  might  aspire. 

For  the  week  following  that  rencontre  between  the 
two  field  officers — Hoyt  of  the  volunteer  cavalry,  Wallis 


WHO    IS    MAJOR    FORNO?  141 

of  the  regular  infantry, — Gerald  when  with  his  mother 
and  sister  could  talk  of  hardly  anything  else.  He 
gloried  in  the  triumph  of  his  friend  and  hero.  He  mar- 
veled that  his  mother  seemed  so  strangely  distressed 
that  Major  Wallis  should  have  been  braved  and  defeated 
within  her  doors.  She  hoped — oh,  she  hoped  no  harm 
would  come  of  it! — that  he  would  not  be  deeply  of- 
fended!— that  he  would  not  allow  it  to  influence  him 
against  them !  until  Gerald  stared  at  her,  open  mouthed, 
and  Ethel  gazed  in  wonderment  and  distress.  What 
possible  difference,  demanded  Gerald,  could  it  make 
what  Wallis  might  think  ?  He  was  clearly  in  the  wrong, 
and  in  view  of  all  that  had  happened  and  the  suspicions 
attaching  to  Major  Wallis,  Gerald  considered  her 
anxiety — or  sympathy,  or  whatever  it  might  be — inex- 
plicable. 

And  so,  too,  at  first  did  Ethel ;  and,  though  she  could 
not  speak  upon  the  subject  to  Colonel  Hoyt,  she  could 
and  did  to  Gerald,  and  several  serious  talks  had  the 
brother  and  sister.  Twice  or  thrice,  indeed,  over  the 
breakfast  toast  and  eggs  they  found  themselves  im- 
pelled to  refer  to  it.  Then  one  evening  at  dinner  when 
Hoyt  was  there  something  was  said  about  an  item  that 
had  just  appeared  in  the  Post,  then  lying  on  the  library 
table — a  letter  from  Washington,  announcing  that  an 
important  arrest  had  been  made  by  secret  service  officers 
the  previous  day, — the  arrest  of  a  civilian  for  whom 
they  had  been  looking  for  some  time, — and  who,  hav- 
ing been  "shadowed"  on  arrival  by  train  from  Balti- 
more, had  been  arrested  as  he  came  forth  in  totally 


i42  A    BROKEN    SWORD. 

different  garb  from  that  he  wore  on  entering  the  house 
of  an  officer  of  high  rank. 

"It  is  high  time  something  was  being  done,"  said 
Gerald.  "We  know  Washington  is  full  of  spies." 

"Do  you  know  at  whose  house  this  arrest  was  made?" 
asked  Hoyt,  quietly,  "or,  at  least,  who  lived  in  that 
house?" — this  with  a  glance  at  Ethel,  and  then  a  long 
look  at  Forbes,  just  leaving  the  room,  tray  in  hand,  and 
Forbes  stopped  suddenly  and  busied  himself  about  some 
trifles  on  the  stand  at  the  doorway. 

"No,"  said  Ethel,  looking  up  expectant.  And  the 
colonel's  eyes  were  still  fixed  on  Forbes  as,  with  some 
little  emphasis,  he  continued: — 

"Major  Wallis's,  and  the  arrested  man  was — Forno." 

Whereat  the  tray  slipped  with  a  bang  and  rattle  to 
the  floor,  and  Forbes  seemed  long  in  recovering  it — and 
his  own  balance. 

Then  it  seems  Hoyt  had  been  writing  letters  to 
officers  who  had  been  with  Anderson  at  Fort  Sumter — 
to  Seabrook  who  was  Ralph  Rutherford's  second  when 
he  fought  that  fatal  duel,  and  to  others  cognizant  of 
club  talk  at  the  time,  for  Gerald  saw  letters  come  for  his 
colonel  addressed  in  handwriting  he  had  seen  before  in 
his  mother's  possession,  for  she,  poor  lady,  had  impor- 
tuned almost  everybody  who  knew  her  martyred,  mur- 
dered boy — murdered  wantonly,  she  would  have  it — 
and  so  taught  her  surviving  children  to  believe,  and  so 
told  Hoyt  when  first  he  came  to  see  her  on  his  return 
from  the  West,  and  one  day  when  Gerald  went  suddenly 
into  the  colonel's  office  at  the  barracks  he  heard  these 


WHO    IS    MAJOR    FORNO?  143 

words  from  the  lips  of  a  stranger  officer,  in  well-worn 
uniform,  with  tarnished  red  shoulder-straps,  who  fin- 
ished his  sentence  as  the  new  adjutant  entered  and 
before  he  noted  the  colonel's  sign  of  warning : — 

"A  woman  was  the  real  cause — not  the  quarrel  at  the 
club." 

The  speaker  colored  to  the  brows  when,  on  the  instant 
— almost  cutting  off  his  words — the  colonel  said,  ''Cap- 
tain Seabrook,  let  me  present  Mr.  Gerald  Rutherford, 
adjutant  of  the  regiment,"  and  colored  still  more  when 
Gerald  innocently  asked : 

"Captain  Seabrook,  of  Fort  Sumter?" 

"The  same,  Mr.  Rutherford.  I  had  the  pleasure  of 
knowing  your  brother — the  sorrow  of  being  his  second. 
Your  mother  has  honored  me  with  a  few  letters." 

And  when  Gerald  told  his  mother  of  this  meeting 
she  became  much  agitated  and  begged  to  know  where 
the  captain  was  to  be  found;  she  wished  much  to  see 
him,  and — had  he  said  anything? — had  Gerald  heard? 
— and  Gerald,  remembering  what  he  had  heard,  and 
remembering  the  shock  with  which  he  had  heard,  re- 
plied that  in  no  other  wray  whatever  had  Ralph's  name 
been  mentioned,  which,  though  misleading,  was  true. 
The  young  man  felt  well  assured  they  were  talking  of 
his  brother  and  therefore  sought  to  draw  particulars 
from  Hoyt,  but  all  to  no  purpose. 

Then  the  invalid  herself  asked  that  the  colonel  should 
come  to  her,  and  there  had  been  a  talk  that  left  her 
sad,  tearful  and  unstrung.  She  begged  that  Seabrook 
might  be  found.  She  longed  to  see  him,  too,  but  Sea- 


144  A   BROKEN    SWORD. 

brook  was  gone.  Then  Ethel  almost  demanded  of  her 
mother  that  she  tell  her  what  all  this  mystery  meant, 
but  the  mother  would  not,  and  the  poor  lady  begged  her 
daughter  not  to  press  the  question  now — that  later,  if 
she  survived,  she  would  tell  her  all,  please  God — and 
then  both  women  looking  up,  startled,  saw  that  inscrut- 
able Forbes,  apologetic  and  super-respectful,  bowing  at 
the  curtained  entrance.  He  begged  the  ladies'  pardon, 
but  he  had  given  Joyce  "permission  to  go  h'out  a  w'ile 
— Joyce's  'ead  was,  beg  pardon,  h'aching.  Would  the 
colonel  and  the  captain  be  'ome  to  dinner?"  Forbes 
revolted  at  the  idea  of  a  Rutherford  in  arms  being 
of  lower  rank  than  captain.  But  the  ladies  could  not 
answer.  Only  at  rare  intervals  did  these  zealous  offi- 
cers permit  themselves  to  leave  their  station  at  the 
barracks  back  of  Williamsburgh,  and  rarer  still  were 
they  able  to  send  word  of  their  coming — a  matter 
that  gave  to  no  one  in  the  household  more  concern  than 
Hortense,  who  spent  many  an  hour  abroad  now,  yet 
was  never  away,  if  she  could  help  it,  when  Hoyt  was 
in  the  house. 

It  was  an  odd  thing  that,  though  he  slept  at  barracks 
with  his  regiment;  spent  all  his  days  and  most  of 
his  evenings  there,  and  had  moved  much  of  his 
belongings  thither,  Colonel  Hoyt  still  retained  one  of 
the  rooms  he  had  occupied  in  Eleventh  Street — the  one 
whose  windows  opened  on  the  interior  of  the  block  and 
gave  a  glimpse,  at  least,  of  that  glass-covered  gallery 
at  the  back  of  the  Rutherford  mansion — the  gallery 
wherein  Forbes  had  set  that  light  and  its  strong  re- 


WHO    IS   MAJOR   FORNO?  145 

fleeter.  It  was  odd,  too,  that  Forbes  should  have  taken 
measures  to  ascertain  if  it  were  the  case  that  the  colonel 
was  frequently  there.  Prince,  the  darky  who  tended 
door,  answered  the  calls  and  blacked  the  boots  of  the 
half  dozen  lodgers  in  the  house,  mentioned  casually  to 
the  colonel  when  that  officer  looked  in  on  his  trunks  and 
boxes  one  November  evening,  that  Forbes  had  asked 
such  questions,  and  Hoyt  had  merely  said,  "Indeed!" 
All  the  same  the  colonel  never  went  to  the  room  that  he 
didn't  go  to  the  windows  and  gaze  from  there  at  the 
rear  of  the  Rutherford  house.  Prince  saw  him  from 
the  yard,  and  went  to  see,  whenever  the  colonel  came, 
and  Prince's  theory  was  that  the  colonel  was  looking 
at  Miss  Rutherford's  windows,  for  servants'  halls  along 
the  block  were  quite  well  informed  as  to  the  colonel's 
evident  regard.  But  no  more  did  Forbes  set  that  daz- 
zling light  to  shine  along  the  back  porches. 

Then  one  bright  December  Sunday  they  came  walk- 
ing home  from  church, — Hoyt  and  other  officers  being 
conspicuous,  for  all  was  quiet  on  the  Potomac,  the  South 
blockading  it  at  Mathias  Point  and  fever  housing  Mc- 
Clellan  in  Washington.  Miss  Rutherford  flushed  a  bit 
at  the  piercing  glance  from  Lorna  Brenham's  bright 
eyes,  as  that  brilliant  and  unterrified  upholder  of 
Southern  rights  encountered  them.  Miss  Brenham  was 
pleased  to  be  in  exuberant  mood  and  hailed  them, 
blithely  :— 

"You  and  Colonel  Hoyt  ought  to  stop  in  and  see 
the  Charleston  papers  at  our  house,"  said  she,  saucily. 
"Lots  of  news  about  people  we  know.  Colonel  Gordon, 


146  A    BROKEN    SWORD. 

Colonel  Haines,  Major  Forno,  and  who  else,  Mr. 
Granger  ?"  she  demanded  of  the  devotee  at  her  side. 

"What  about  Haines?"  asked  Hoyt,  in  smiling 
amusement,  raising  his  forage-cap  to  the  lady,  but  quite 
ignoring  Granger.  He  exasperated  Lorna  Brenham 
because  he  would  never  take  her  seriously,  and  only 
laughed  at  her  diatribes.  Her  dark  eyes  flashed  as  she 
answered  him. 

"He  counts  on  coming  North  for  the  summer,  as 
usual,  and  bringing  a  host  with  him,"  was  the  half 
merry,  half  defiant  answer.  "And  Forno's  with  him 
now,  you  know,  wearing  the  gray.  Won't  Newport 
and  Saratoga  and  the  Point  be  heavenly?  And  where 
on  earth  will  we  put  them  all?"  she  continued;  then, 
radiant  and  beautiful,  turned  laughing  away  to  greet 
others  of  her  friends.  Lorna's  manner  at  this  stage  of 
the  game  was  that  of  a  queen,  with  estates  and  orders 
and  honors  to  confer  on  those  she  fancied.  Beyond  all 
doubt  she  counted  on  seeing  the  star  of  the  South  float- 
ing speedily  over  the  City  Hall. 

"Why  don't  you  tell  her  what  you  knew  of  Forno? 
7  shall.  I  won't  have  her  triumphing  over  us  in  that 
way,"  said  Ethel,  angrily,  her  own  eyes  flashing  now, 
her  cheeks  burning,  as  they  went  on  homeward  in  the 
decorous,  solemn  promenade. 

"Because — I  am  not  sure,"  he  answered,  slowly,  "that 
I  do  know." 

"You  said  he'd  been  arrested  at — at — in  Washing- 
ton," spoke  Miss  Rutherford,  with  something  very  like 
asperity — the  tone  that  the  best  of  women  will  some- 


WHO    IS    MAJOR    FORNO?  147 

times  employ  in  rebuke  to  the  man  of  whom  they  feel 
sure. 

"I  should  have  said,  Ethel,  that  the  dispatch  shown 
me  at  the  General's  that  afternoon  so  stated." 

"Do  you  mean — you  don't  believe  it?" 

"Wait — we're  almost  home.  Good  morning,  Mrs. 
Leroy — good  morning,  Miss  Gertrude,"  and  again  the 
cavalry  cap  came  off  in  greeting  to  these  near  neighbors, 
and  Ethel's  eyes  beamed  with  the  sweetness  of  expres- 
sion the  well-bred  maiden  commands  even  at  moments 
of  much  irritation.  There  had  been  too  many — far  too 
many  secrets  in  the  house  of  late  that  Hoyt  seemed  to 
share,  and  from  which  she  was  excluded,  and  the  time 
had  come  to  make  him  feel  it.  Gerald,  in  his  becoming 
uniform,  was  striding  slowly  up  the  avenue  by  Grace 
Minturn's  side.  Mrs.  Rutherford  had  felt  too  feeble 
to  attend  service  that  morning,  and  had  been  left  in 
the  charge  of  Hortense.  There  was  no  one  in  the  par- 
lor, said  the  servant  at  the  door,  and  Ethel  thither  led 
the  way ;  then  turned  upon  her  escort : — 

"First,  what  is  this  mystery  about  Major  Forno,  for 
I  think  you  know?" 

"Ethel,  I  do  not  know,  unless  it  be  that — he  has  a 
double." 

"What  has  he  to  do  with  Major  Wallis  ?  What  have 
they — either  or  both — to  do  with  mother  ?  What  have 
you  heard?  What  do  you  know  that  they  know  of 
Ralph?"  And  now  Ethel  stood  confronting  him;  her 
fair  face  flushed;  her  clear,  brave  eyes  flashing.  Well 
she  knew  he  was  her  own  soldier,  her  knight,  her  cham- 


148  A    BROKEN    SWORD. 

pion,  her  brother's  loyal  friend  and  defender,  yet  there 
was  something  he  and  they  and  all  of  them  were  keeping 
from  her — something  about  him  whom  she  had  loved 
and  looked  up  to  with  all  the  adoration  a  young  girl 
feels  for  a  fond,  indulgent  big  brother — something 
Gerald  did  not  know — something  mother  would  not  tell 
— something  Bernard  Hoyt  should  tell  here  and  now  or 
feel  the  weight  of  her  displeasure. 

"Ethel,  ask  yourself  whose  letters  were  those  you — 
lost — that  Sunday  so  long  ago,"  he  gently  spoke. 

"Three — of  Ralph's,"  she  answered  promptly,  "that 
mother  gave  me  to  carry — that  she  meant  to  show  the 
rector  after  service,  but  was  taken  ill.  What  has  that  to 
do  with— this  ?" 

"Think  again,  Ethel.  Do  you  not  know  what  letters 
were  stolen  from  your  mother's  desk?" 

"Ralph's,  yes.  And  knowing  how  she  prized  them, 
read  them  over  and  over,,  no  wonder  she  wept  at  losing 
them.  But  what  earthly  value  would  they  have — to  any 
one  else  ?" 

"Some  one  has  risked  state's  prison  to  get  them,  or 
else  others  filed  with  them,  dear,  and  risked  it,  as  I  be- 
lieve, to  bring  harm  and  shame  on  a  name  that  I  love 
as  I  do  my  own.  You  have  not  been  kind  to  me  of 
late—" 

"You  have  not  been  fair  with  me,"  she  broke  in  hotly. 
"You  have  withheld  from  me  what  I  ought  to  know,  if 
I  am  to  be  of  any  use  to  mother — if  I  am  not  to  be 
treated  as  a  child,  and  again  I  ask  you,  and  for  the 
last  time,  Colonel  Hoyt,  what  is  the  story  that  is  sap- 


WHO    IS    MAJOR    FORNO?  149 

ping  mother's  life?  Is  it  of  Ralph? — for  I  will 
know  it!" 

"Ethel,"  he  said,  gravely,  gently,  sadly,  "I  ask  you 
to  trust  it  to  me  a  little  longer.  I  beg  you  not  to  make 
me  tell  you  now,  because — because,  as  I  live,  I  don't 
and  won't  believe  it — because,  please  God,  I  hope  to  live 
to  learn  the  true  one,  and  then  to  lay  it,  with — What  is 
it,  Forbes?"  And  with  angry  stride  the  soldier  sped 
across  the  parlor  and  tore  aside  the  heavy  curtains  at 
the  archway. 

"I  beg  pardon,  sir,"  said  the  butler,  most  respectfully, 
caught  as  he  would  have  stolen  away,  "but  I  heard 
voices  and  thought  the  colonel  called  me,  sir." 

And  then  came  Gerald  bursting  in  from  the  front 
door,  joyous,  excited.  "A  telegram,  just  sent  by  the 
officer-of-the-day,  Colonel — came  this  morning." 

In  breathless  silence  Hoyt  tore  it  open,  read  first  to 
himself  and  then  aloud  : — 

"Have  your  regiment  in  readiness  to  move  to-mor- 
row." Slowly,  thoughtfully  he  folded  it,  his  blue  eyes 
on  her  paling  face.  "I  had  hoped  to  know — more — to 
tell  you  more  before  I  left  New  York,"  said  he,  his  voice 
trembling  just  a  bit.  "Now  I  see  no  way — until  the 
war  is  over." 


CHAPTER    XII. 

GARRY  OWEN  NA  GLORIA. 

MEANTIME,  despite  sore  trials  never  mentioned 
to  the  world,  the  dashing  commandant  of 
Greble  Barracks  was  still  hard  at  work  perfecting  the 
drill  and  discipline  of  his  new,  yet  already  famous,  regi- 
ment of  regulars.  Most  of  his  officers  were  gentlemen 
of  education  from  civil  life,  college-bred  men,  society 
men,  "cadets"  of  good  families.  Several  had  been 
schooled  in  the  New  York  Seventh,  and,  though  all 
were  made  to  feel  the  distance  by  which  they  were 
separated  from  the  regimental  commander,  all,  with- 
out exception,  conceded  his  brilliant  attainments  and 
admired  his  skill,  knowledge  and  unquestioned  gift  for 
command.  "If  he  were  only  a  general,"  said  his  senior 
captain,  "Wallis  could  do  something  in  this  war." 

"He  will  never  get  to  be  a  general  or  anything  like 
it,"  was  the  answer  of  a  thoughtful  elder.  "He  has 
antagonized  the  adjutant  general;  he  ignores  the  Sec- 
retary ;  he  truckles  to  nobody,  and  in  his  contemptuous 
independence  he  persists  in  being  intimate  with  persona 
decidedly  non-grata  with  the  government.  I  tell  you 
that  he  is  simply  killing  his  own  chances  and  he's 
booked  for  trouble." 


GARRY    OWEN    NA    GLORIA.       .   151 

The  words  of  Captain  Campion  seemed  actually 
prophetic  when,  one  sparkling  winter  morning,  when 
even  Washington  felt  the  sting  of  the  frost,  secret 
service  officials  tracked  a  bundled-up  traveler  in 
slouch  hat,  spectacles,  muffler  and  cloak  from  the 
Baltimore  cars  to  a  hack  and  from  the  hack  to  the 
lodgings  of  Major  Wallis,  and,  less  than  an  hour  later, 
arrested  the  new  arrival  as  he  came  forth  minus  slouch 
hat,  spectacles,  cloak  and  muffler,  looking  very  dapper 
and  soldierly,  and  whisked  him  away  to  a  room  at  the 
old  War  Department. 

Thither,  too,  was  Wallis  speedily  summoned,  and 
anything  more  dignified  than  the  demeanor  of  these 
two  attainted  gentlemen  could  not  be  imagined.  Mr. 
— or  Major — Forno,  as  they  called  him,  before  the 
arrival  of  Wallis,  had  submitted  with  calm  protest, 
but  unruffled  composure,  to  the  search  ordered  by  the 
chief  officer  present,  and  not  a  paper  of  consequence 
was  found  upon  his  person.  Wallis,  when  called  upon 
by  an  official  of  the  War  Department  to  account  for 
his  entertaining  a  man  who  was  known  to  have  been 
in  Charleston  and  Savannah,  consorting  with  Confed- 
erate leaders,  within  a  fortnight,  replied  with  utter 
sang  froid  that  he  could  not  be  expected  to  possess 
the  information  of  the  secret  service — that  all  he  knew 
of  the  gentleman's  movements  was  what  he  derived 
from  the  gentleman  himself.  The  gentleman  said  he 
had  just  come  from  New  York,  and  had  spent  some 
time  there  and  in  Boston  and  other  cities.  The  gen- 
tleman had  entertained  him  in  days  before  the  un- 


152  A    BROKEN    SWORD. 

happy  difference  between  the  sections,  and  he  had 
most  assuredly  sought  to  return  the  gentleman's  hos- 
pitality. If  the  gentleman  were  in  any  way  connected 
with  the  Confederate  service  the  fact  had  not  been 
confided  to  him,  Major  Wallis,  and  so,  having  at  no 
time  referred  to  the  suspected  person  as  either  Mr. 
or  Major  Forno,  with  a  languid  yawn,  Major  Wallis 
begged  leave  to  acquaint  his  examiner  with  the  fact 
that  it  lacked  less  than  an  hour  to  drill  time. 

This,  too,  was  told  at  dinners  and  receptions  dur- 
ing the  gay  holiday  season,  and  made  Wallis  even 
more  a  marked  man  in  every  gathering  he  attended. 
What  struck  many  people  as  strange  as  the  winter 
wore  on,  was  that  the  less  Wallis  was  seen  about  the 
White  House  or  War  Department  the  more  was  he  in 
evidence  among  McClellan's  chosen  friends.  Intimates 
the  latter  had  but  three  or  four,  and  these,  unhappily, 
were  not  of  the  administration  circle.  And  so,  while  the 
new  — teenth  Infantry,  with  its  thoroughbred  looking 
officers,  its  veteran  sergeants,  culled  from  many  an 
old  line  organization  that  Wallis  had  known,  and  its 
superior  class  of  young  soldiers  in  the  ranks,  was  for- 
ever being  paraded  under  its  brilliant  commander  for 
review,  inspection,  or  some  other  full  dress  function 
at  the  instance  of  the  general  heading  the  army,  and 
by  consequence  Wallis  and  his  favorite  officers  were 
perpetually  figuring  in  ''high  society,"  he  and  his  fel- 
lows were  referred  to  with  ominous  words  when  re- 
ferred to  at  all  by  the  advisers  of  the  grim  new  Secre- 
tary, already  beginning  to  take  the  bit  in  his  strong 


GARRY    OWEN    NA    GLORIA.          153 

teeth  and  to  pull  hard  at  the  restraining  hands  in  the 
White  House. 

Then  another  incident  occurred  that  meant  more 
trouble  for  Wallis.  Of  course  he  had  made  no  men- 
tion of  the  scene  between  himself  and  Hoyt  the  night 
at  the  Rutherfords,  but  you  may  be  sure  it  was  some- 
thing Gerald  could  not  keep  to  himself,  and  had  told 
with  consummate  glee  in  letters  to  Barclay,  Bronson 
and  others  who  were  his  intimates  at  Columbia  and  in 
the  Seventh,  and  were  now  young  officers  of  the  regu- 
lar service.  The  story  fairly  flew  about  the  scattered 
camps  of  the  batteries,  the  cavalry  and  the  two  or 
three  battalions  of  foot  in  town.  Then  one  glorious 
day  in  January,  all  but  the  mud,  a  great  regiment  in 
absolute  uniform,  complete  equipment  and  fine  condi- 
tion as  to  foot  drill,  marched  into  camp  alongside  a 
veteran  troop  of  regulars,  and  in  less  than  a  week, 
with  its  brand  new  horses  chosen  and  colored  accord- 
ing to  squadron,  with  ambling,  wall-eyed,  "cream- 
laid"  whites  for  the  band,  the  whole  command, 
coached  by  experienced  soldiers, — Hoyt's  own  old 
frontier  friends  and  devoted  followers, — was  learning 
the  mysteries  of  grooming,  feeding,  bitting,  bridling, 
saddling,  sitting  bare-back,  blanket-back  or  in  the 
split-tree  pigskin.  So  engrossed  was  the  colonel  in  his 
work  he  seldom  if  ever  went  to  town,  and  so  never 
saw  the  wrathful  Wallis  until  mid  February  and  then 
only  by  the  latter's  planning  and  contriving. 

A  strange  unrest  had  seized  on  Mrs.  Rutherford 
ever  since  she  heard  of  Forno's  capture,  his  subse- 


154  A    BROKEN    SWORD. 

quent  release, — because  nothing  whatever  of  incrim- 
inating character  had  been  found, — and  then  his  total 
disappearance.  She  wished  to  see  Wallis,  who  said 
he  was  refused  leave  to  go  to  New  York.  She  begged 
for  the  address  of  Captain  Seabrook,  who,  with  his 
battery,  had  gone  to  West  Virginia.  She  plied  friends 
of  influence  with  questions  as  to  Forno,  to  the  end 
that  great  curiosity  was  excited,  but  nothing  definite 
learned  beyond  the  fact  that  the  bearer  of  that  name 
had  been  traced  to  Port  Tobacco,  and,  as  the  Confed- 
erate guns  at  Mathias  Point  still  ruled  the  Potomac, 
it  was  an  easy  matter  for  any  one  with  money  or 
influence  to  come  and  go  across  at  will.  Forno  was 
doubtless  back  under  the  sheltering  wing  of  the  Con- 
federacy. 

But  why  the  mischief,  was  the  question,  did  he  risk 
that  visit  to  Washington?  What  could  he  possibly 
have  gained? 

There  were  no  secret  service  officers  to  search  him 
on  his  return  to  Richmond.  Even  had  there  been,  the 
papers  found  would  have  failed  to  attaint  him  of  polit- 
ical crime,  though  they  might  have  landed  him  before 
a  police  court. 

Then,  with  Forno  gone  beyond  reach,  Mrs.  Ruth- 
erford decided  she  must  be  near  Gerald  again  while 
yet  there  was  time,  and  good  Dr.  Tracy  said  by  all 
means  take  her ;  she  \vas  fretting  her  heart  out  here  at 
home.  Willard's  was  crowded,  but  a  parlor  was 
fitted  up  as  boudoir  and  bedroom  for  the  invalid  lady 
and  her  daughter.  Hortense  was  given  a  tiny  closet 


GARRY    OWEN    NA    GLORIA.          155 

on  an  upper  floor,  whereat  she  grumbled  greatly. 
Gerald  had  been  sent  to  town  to  meet  them,  and 
the  day  after  their  arrival  Hoyt  rode  in  to  pay  his 
respects. 

So  long  as  the  colonel  remained  at  camp  and  re- 
fused to  mingle  in  society  there  had  been  no  way  in 
which  Wallis  could  reach  him.  A  note  he  had  sent 
by  a  distinguished  civilian  friend,  a  man  who  had  con- 
ducted more  than  one  cartel  in  the  past  and  had  been 
an  authority  on  the  code  duello  in  Congressional  and 
social  circles  as  well  as  such  clubs  as  then  existed. 
Briefly,  Wallis  stated  that  the  wrongs  and  indignities 
he  had  received  at  the  hands  of  Colonel  Hoyt  were 
insupportable,  past  amende,  and  he  demanded  the 
satisfaction  due  from  one  who  considered  himself  an 
officer  and  a  gentleman.  Wallis  did  not  mince  words 
in  the  least.  Trial  by  court-martial  would  have  been 
the  result  had  Hoyt  betrayed  him,  but  that  officer 
contented  himself  by  saying  flatly  that  he  would  not 
accord  Major  Wallis  a  meeting  and  would  receive 
no  more  communications  from  him.  The  gentleman 
messenger  expressed  amaze  and  said  that  a  year  ago 
such  refusal  would  have  subjected  an  officer  to  ostra- 
cism in  both  army  and  civil  circles,  and  began  to  say 
something  about  "posting"  as  a  necessary  conse- 
quence, whereat  Hoyt  said  that  if  his  principal  con- 
sidered it  advisable  to  make  the  matter  public  by  all 
means  let  him  do  so,  and  then  bowed  his  visitor  to 
the  door. 

Wallis  was  furious,  yet  prudent.    His  civilian  friend 


156  A    BROKEN   SWORD. 

was  a  Virginian  and  a  Southern  sympathizer  who, 
while  seeing  that  times  had  changed,  could  not  yet 
realize  how  very  much,  and  so  was  for  having  Wallis 
pull  the  colonel's  nose  in  front  of  the  regiment,  but 
Wallis  laid  the  case  before  a  veteran  on  McClellan's 
staff  who  had  himself  been  '"out"  on  more  than  one 
occasion.  The  old  soldier  listened  thoughtfully. 

"You  can't  post  Hoyt,"  said  he.  "  'Twould  do  no 
harm  to  him,  for  every  man  of  us  that  ever  served  in 
the  West  knows  how  brave  a  fellow  he  is.  It  would 
only  hurt  you,  for  the  War  Department  loves  you  none 
too  well  and  might  order  an  investigation.  Two  years 
ago  I  would  not  say  what  I  must  say  now,  that  is — 
drop  it."  And  the  decision  was  unalterable. 

But  Wallis  burned  with  hate  and  sense  of  wrong. 
Something  he  must  and  would  do  to  punish  Hoyt,  and 
this  is  what  he  did  and  how  he  did  it: 

The  colonel  rode  in  to  dine  with  the  ladies  the  third 
evening  after  their  coming;  dismounted  in  front  of 
Willard's  and  sent  the  orderly  with  the  horses  to  a 
neighboring  stable.  Gerald,  previously  arrived,  was 
with  his  mother  on  the  second  floor.  The  marble- 
tiled  office  was  crowded  with  men,  many  in  uniform 
and  of  all  grades  from  general  down,  though  the  prov- 
ost marshal's  people  saw  to  it  that  only  those  duly 
authorized  to  be  absent  from  camp  or  station  were 
allowed  to  loiter  about  town.  Hoyt's  soldierly  form, 
youthful  face  and  the  high  rank  betokened  by  his 
handsome  uniform  attracted  much  attention.  The 
roads  were  deep  with  mud,  and  his  high  cavalry  boots 


GARRY   OWEN   NA   GLORIA.         157 

and  glistening  spurs,  that  had  been  immaculate  when 
he  left  camp,  now  needed  the  attention  of  expert 
hands,  as  some  of  Willard's  boys  had  learned  to 
be.  Chatting  awhile  with  certain  New  York  relatives 
of  one  of  his  officers,  Hoyt  remained  some  fifteen  min- 
utes in  the  porter's  room.  Meanwhile  another  lad 
slipped  up  to  the  parlor  floor  and  presently  the  tall, 
strikingly  distinguished  figure  of  Major  Wallis  came 
sauntering  down.  It  was  noticed  at  the  time  that  the 
major's  face  was  strangely  pale ;  that  his  eyes  glittered 
eagerly  as  he  glanced  about  the  lobby,  and  that  he 
nervously  switched  the  light  rattan  cane  he  carried. 
He,  too,  was  in  complete  and  immaculate  uniform, 
but,  like  Hoyt  and  others  of  our  army  when  not  on 
duty,  wore  neither  belt  nor  side  arms.  He  languidly, 
drawlingly  responded  to  the  many  salutations,  but  was 
evidently  looking  for  some  one  and  presently  that 
some  one  came. 

Still  listening  to  the  eager  talk  of  the  Gothamites, 
Hoyt  walked  forward  through  the  throng,  making  for 
the  desk,  his  right  hand  fumbling  in  the  breast  of  his 
coat  in  search  of  his  card-case.  He  reached  the  coun- 
ter, touching  his  cap  to  a  general  officer  as  he  passed 
and  never  hearing  the  low-toned  exclamation  of  an 
aide-de-camp,  "By  Jove,  there's  Wallis,  too!  We 
can't  have  trouble  here!"  It  was  while  Hoyt  was 
standing  at  the  desk,  his  right  hand  still  prisoned  in 
his  coat,  that  Wallis,  with  swift,  elastic  stride,  burst 
through  the  crowd;  made  straight  at  the  unconscious 
officer,  and  reached  forth  his  left  hand  as  though  to 


158  A    BROKEN    SWORD. 

grasp  the  colonel's  shoulder  and  whirl  him  about  so 
that  he  might  face  him  as  he  dealt  his  blow.  Then 
up  flew  the  light  cane,  poised  for  the  fierce  attack — 
and  there  was  seized  and  grasped  by  a  muscular  hand, 
while  a  stern  voice  said :  "Drop  it,  sir,  at  once  or  I'll 
send  for  the  guard,"  and  Wallis,  with  livid  face,  looked 
into  the  eyes  of  a  soldier  with  whom  there  was  no 
trifling,  whether  he  wore  the  garb  of  a  troop  com- 
mander or,  as  now,  the  guise  of  a  general. 

"I  yield,  sir,  to  your  rank  and  authority,"  said  Wal- 
lis, with  mechanical  salute,  and  left  his  stick  in  his 
superior's  grasp,  as  without  another  word,  he  turned, 
stalked  through  the  curious  throng  and  disappeared 
upon  the  crowded  avenue. 

"Something's  got  to  be  done  to  bring  that  fellow  to 
terms,"  was  the  verdict  of  the  War  Department  when 
the  story  reached  there,  as  it  did  next  day,  and  op- 
portunity was  not  lacking.  Old  "Meejor"  Mullins, 
nearly  thirty-five  years  in  the  army  and  only  just  pro- 
moted lieutenant-colonel  of  one  of  the  old  single  bat- 
talion regiments,  was  there  in  Washington, — a  brave, 
brainless,  butt-headed  campaigner,  laughingly  known 
to  all  the  line  as  a  pompous  incompetent  of  the  fossil- 
iferous  class,  who  could  neither  drill,  discipline  nor 
command  any  more  than  he  could  ride,  yet  sturdily 
believed  he  could  do  all  that  man  could  do.  He  had 
good  backers  in  a  powerful  political  element  not  en- 
tirely dissociated  with  the  Church  of  Rome.  The  lieu- 
tenant-colonel of  the  new  — teenth  knew  well  that  he 
would  never  have  to  join  with  that  rank,  and  that  the 


GARRY    OWEN    NA    GLORIA.          159 

double  stars  were  ahead  if  he  had  any  luck  at  all.  A 
telegram  was  sent  and  answered.  A  transfer  was  or- 
dered— Lieutenant-Colonel  Brinton  (Brigadier  Gen- 
eral, U.  S.  V.)  going  from  the  — teenth  to  the  — d 
and  Lieutenant-Colonel  Michael  Mullins,  recently 
promoted,  coming  from  the  — d,  in  which  he  had 
legged  it  over  the  Llano  Estacado  and  charged  at 
Chapultepec,  ordered  to  assume  command  of  the  post 
of  Greble  Barracks  and  the  swellest  regiment  of  regu- 
lars in  the  Army  of  the  Potomac — McClellan's  pets, 
the  social  lions,  the  splendidly  drilled,  the  "Silver 
Spoons"  (an  envious  reference  to  their  handsome  mess 
kit) — the  officers  and  men  whom  Wallis  had  made 
and  moulded  and  from  whose  head  he  must  now 
step  down  to  the  insignificance  of  second  in  com- 
mand. 

But  the  — teenth  were  wild  with  wrath,  as  certain 
others  were  with  wicked  glees,  and  the  — teenth 
nearly  revolted  at  the  thought  of  red-nosed  old  Mi- 
chael, with  his  brogue  and  his  gay  Irish  banter,  seated 
at  the  head  of  the  mess  table  (Wallis's  pride  and 
glory),  receiving  guests  and  visitors;  commanding 
with  his  squat,  bulbous  figure  on  parade  and  drill,  and 
lording  it  over  these  men  of  standing  and  substance 
in  their  communities  at  home.  If  the  enemies  and 
detractors,  the  maligners  and  slanderers  of  Harold 
Wallis  thought  to  see  him  crushed,  chagrined  and 
humiliated  (and,  mind  you,  there  was  a  gang  of  them 
there  to  witness  Michael's  first  parade  and  to  crow 
over  Wallis's  coming  up  with  the  line  at  command 


160  A    BROKEN    SWORD. 

of  his  heart-broken  adjutant),  there  was  disappoint- 
ment in  store  for  them  and  a  sore  one.  "He'll  shirk 
it,"  said  they.  "He  won't  be  there."  But  they  little 
knew  Harold  Wallis.  There  he  was,  more  blithe  and 
debonair  than  he  had  seemed  for  many  a  day.  With 
all  the  officers  in  full  dress  uniform  assembled  at  the 
mess  hall;  with  the  regimental  colors  at  the  head  of 
the  beautifully  garnished  table;  with  the  fine  band, 
that  he  had  worked  so  hard  and  spent  so  much  to  per- 
fect, stationed  just  without  the  walls;  the  board  set 
with  all  their  bravery  of  snowy  linen  and  glistening 
silver  and  crystal  (much  of  it  borrowed  for  the  occa- 
sion, as  was  the  huge  punch  bowl,  from  a  neighbor- 
ing caterer);  with  guests  bidden  from  McClellan's 
staff,  and  from  adjacent  camps,  aye,  even  from  the 
walls  of  the  War  Department;  the  champagne  flowed 
and  frothed  and  bubbled,  and  men  marveled  much  at 
the  wondrous  ease  and  grace  writh  which  Wallis  pre- 
sided; at  his  courtly  greeting  to  every  guest,  some  of 
whom  he  had  airily  snubbed  within  the  week;  at  his 
glowing  cordiality  to  honest  old  Mullins,  who,  ex- 
pecting anything  but  this,  knew  not  what  to  make 
of  it  all,  but  beamed  and  blushed  and  tossed  his  glass 
to  man  after  man.  And  then,  when  as  master  of  the 
informal  feast,  the  major  had  formally  toasted  the 
President  of  the  United  States,  and  called  on  a  dis- 
tinguished Senator  to  respond  (the  Senator  who  had 
gone  with  his  grace  of  St.  Patrick's  to  plead  the  cause 
of  Lieutenant-Colonel  Mike  with  both  President  and 
Secretary,  and  so  lead  to  the  unseating  of  the  brilliant 


GARRY    OWEN    NA    GLORIA.          161 

host  himself),  and  that  rotund  and  equable  statesman 
had  nimbly  responded,  the  band,  in  some  way  failing 
to  get  the  cue,  did  not  strike  up  as  expected,  but  Wal- 
lis,  never  at  a  loss,  was  at  once  on  his  feet  and  in 
eloquent  words  referred  to  the  long  and  heroic  serv- 
ices of  the  distinguished  soldier  to-day  their  guest 
of  honor.  His  foot  had  trod  almost  every  mile  of  the 
broad  frontier;  his  hand  had  been  ever  as  open  as  his 
honest  heart;  his  sword  had  cleft  its  way  from  the 
battlements  of  San  Juan  de  Ulloa  to  the  sacred  halls 
of  the  Montezumas,  following  the  flag  of  his  adopted 
country.  His  fame  had  been  long  linked  with  that  of 
one  of  the  historic  regiments  of  our  ever  glorious 
service,  and  now,  honored  and  acclaimed,  he  had  come 
to  assume  the  leadership  of  this  new  but  enthusiastic 
command,  and  with  bumpers  all  and  a  three  times 
three  he  pledged  the  faith  and  loyalty  of  every  officer 
and  man  to  the  gallant  veteran  on  his  right,  and  pro- 
posed long  life  and  health  to  the  genial,  great  hearted 
and  gladly  welcomed  colonel — Michael  Mullins,  long 
of  the  famous  fighting  — d  and  now  commander  of 
the  loyal  — teenth. 

Up  rose  everybody  but  the  abashed,  overwhelmed, 
yet  delighted  Michael.  Glasses  were  drained;  napkins 
tossed  in  air;  the  table,  sideboard,  walls  and  windows 
hammered;  and  in  the  midst  of  it  all  the  triumphant 
strains  of  the  band  at  last  became  audible  in  the  glori- 
ous national  air  it  should  have  played  when  the  Presi- 
dent was  toasted,  and  Wallis,  turning  to  a  little  group 
of  men,  some  few  of  his  own  set,  but  most  all  from 


162  A    BROKEN    SWORD. 

other  commands;  never  heeding  who  heard,  speaking 
only  in  whimsical  wrath  at  the  contretemps,  impetu- 
ously cried: 

"Oh,    damn    the    Star    Spangled    Banner!      That 
should  have  been  Garry  Owen!" 


CHAPTER    XIII. 

A    NIGHT    PATROL. 

MARCH  came  and  went.  The  army  went  and 
came.  The  President  took  the  bit  in  his 
teeth  and  ordered  McClellan  to  move.  McClellan 
moved  as  far  as  Fairfax  and  back  to  Alexandria. 
Some  few  of  his  people  went  forward  as  far  as  did 
McDowell  the  previous  summer  and  stayed  about 
as  long — the  enemy  obligingly  falling  back  to  the  line 
of  the  Rapidan,  and  politely  inviting  McClellan  to 
come  that  way  or  any  other  he  might  select  and  be 
sure  of  a  warm  reception.  The  Army  of  the  Poto- 
mac took  a  ride  on  the  river  from  which  it  took  its 
name;  landed  at  the  lower  end  of  the  storied  Penin- 
sula, and  felt  its  way  out  to  Yorktown,  where  it  spent 
some  weeks  practicing  siege  operations,  losing  some 
men  and  much  time,  trying  to  manceuver,  among 
others,  one  J.  B.  Magruder  out  of  his  trenches.  An 
old  friend  of  Wallis  was  Magruder  and  a  famous 
entertainer  in  his  day — so  good  that  even  now  higher 
powers  at  Richmond  thought  it  needless  to  supplant 
him  and  only  moderately  to  reinforce.  His  old  bat- 
tery of  the  First  Artillery  was  there  before  him  (its 
gallant  captain,  his  successor,  being  behind  him  much 
of  the  previous  Fall  at  Libby,  a  result  of  wounds  re- 

163 


164  A    BROKEN    SWORD. 

ceived  at  First  Bull  Run),  but  the  mess  silver  was 
still  at  regimental  headquarters,  whither  Magruder 
could  not  go,  and  in  that  silver  had  he  long  had  almost 
parental  interest.  ..  It  was  pleasant,  however,  to  see, 
even  at  a  distance,  the  familiar  old  guidon.  It  was 
pleasant  to  realize  that,  even  in  hostile  array,  there 
were  so  many  old  boon  companions  in  the  blue  ranks 
investing  him.  It  was  charming  to  surround  him- 
self with  the  fortifications  first  thrown  up  by  Lord 
Cornwallis,  and  with  something  of  the  state  that  ever 
hedged  that  accomplished  officer  and  genial  gentle- 
man. It  was  delightful  to  receive  through  the  lines 
facetious  greetings  from  his  erstwhile  companions 
in  arms,  and,  in  the  contemplation  of  certain  visiting 
cards  bearing  old  familiar  names,  to  permit  grim- 
visaged  War  to  smooth  his  wrinkled  front.  It  did 
no  great  harm  to  the  cause  of  either  side  at  the 
front,  at  least,  and  the  mention  of  it  did  so  stir  up 
Stanton  at  the  rear.  It  tickled  Magruder  to  hear 
that  Stanton  waxed  wrathful  over  the  accounts  that 
began  to  reach  him  instead  of  those  he  had  hoped  for 
— to  the  effect  that  McClellan  had  carried  the  lines  by 
assault.  It  amused  Major  Wallis  not  a  little  that  he 
should  on  two  or  three  occasions  find  himself  within 
saluting  distance,  almost,  of  officers  high  on  the  roster 
of  the  Confederate  service  as  well  as  on  that  of  his 
personal  friends,  and,  on  the  two  or  three  other  oc- 
casions when  a  flag  of  truce  passed  between  the  lines, 
it  happened  that  Wallis  was  on  hand  to  hear  every- 
thing that  took  place.  It  was  even  said  that,  without 


A    NIGHT    PATROL.  165 

the  medium  of  the  flag  of  truce,  or  of  the  signal  corps, 
communication  had  been  held  with  the  enemy,  mainly 
at  night,  and  of  this  no  man  knew  more  than  did 
Harold  Wallis,  who  was  forever  riding  about  from 
camp  to  camp.  A  staff  officer  was  he  now,  no  longer 
on  duty  with  the  "Silver  Spoons,"  and,  being  no 
longer  under  the  spur  of  the  Secretary  or  his  chosen 
coterie  at  Washington,  there  was  nobody  who  cared 
to  cross  purposes  with  a  man  so  manifestly  favored 
as  was  this  envied  and  gifted  major. 

It  had  been  thoroughly  understood  at  the  Depart- 
ment that  Wallis  was  to  be  subjected  to  the  humilia- 
tion of  serving  as  second  in  command  to  honest  old 
Mullins — kept  on  duty  in  a  subordinate  capacity  with 
the  officers  and  men  he  had  practically  "formed,"  if 
not  made,  and  compelled  to  feel  that  he  was  being 
punished  for  his  sins.  There  were  men  about  Wash- 
ington to  whom  he  might  have  been  sent  for  dis- 
cipline— old  campaigners  who  would  have  rejoiced 
in  giving  it.  Indeed,  it  had  been  planned  that  the 
"Spoons"  should  be  attached  to  a  brigade  of  regu- 
lars where  Wallis  could  be  made  to  do  duty  and  toe 
the  mark  according  to  the  views  and  wishes  of  men  of 
the  Stanton  type.  But,  so  far  from  showing  the  least 
chagrin  or  concern,  Wallis  had  apparently  accepted 
the  changed  conditions  with  the  utmost  complaisance. 
He  fairly  overwhelmed  Mullins  with  cordiality  on 
all  social  occasions  and  with  demonstrations  of  re- 
spect and  esteem  when  on  duty.  He  responded  with 
apparent  alacrity  to  every  requirement  or  order.  He 


i66  A    BROKEN    SWORD. 

took  Mullins  into  his  confidence,  as  it  were,  and  told 
him  of  the  innumerable  wheels  within  wheels  of  diplo- 
matic society  at  the  capital;  consulted  him  as  to  invi- 
tations to  dine  here,  to  dance  there,  to  drive  with 
this  or  that  fair  one;  giving  the  veteran  to  under- 
stand he  was  embarrassed  at  times  in  choosing  be- 
tween them  because  of  the  atmosphere  of  disloyalty, 
if  not  treason,  that  permeated  the  social  sphere  about 
them.  He  whispered  little  "pointers"  as  to  prominent 
matrons  in  the  court  circle,  all  to  the  end  that  the  de- 
lighted elder  declared  "the  meejor  is  a  divil  of  a  fellow, 
and  by  no  means  the  stuck-up  snob  so  many  people 
make  him  out  to  be."  In  a  week  Wallis  had  him  as 
plastic  as  putty,  and  was  coming  and  going  with  al- 
most as  much  freedom  as  when  himself  in  command. 
In  ten  days  he  was  practically  again  in  command  of 
the  regiment,  for  he  could  most  adroitly  steer  Mullins 
into  almost  any  plan  of  action  by  convincing  that 
rotund  patriot  that  the  project  was  of  his,  the 
senior's,  own  devising.  Then,  however,  when  the  War 
Department  would  have  interposed  and  had  some- 
body warn  Mullins  of  the  actual  state  of  affairs,  Mc- 
Clellan  made  his  start  for  the  Peninsula  and  conceived 
it  necessary  to  have  another  staff  officer — one  to  shine 
at  headquarters  and  properly  impress  his  foreign  vol- 
unteer aides,  the  Prince  de  Joinville  and  his  nephews 
of  the  House  of  Orleans,  as  well  as  one  or  two  gentle- 
men from  other  sections  of  Europe,  studying  the  art 
of  war  as  practiced  in  the  United  States  of  America. 
Wallis  spoke  French  fluently  if  not  well,  and  Erench 


A    NIGHT    PATROL.  167 

was  the  court  language  of  Christendom.  The  Secre- 
tary, it  was  reported,  swore  volubly  when  told  of  Mc- 
Clellan's  choice,  but  the  law  endorsed  it,  and  with  well 
simulated  sorrow  Wallis  bade  adieu  to  Mullins  and 
the  — teenth;  predicted  their  speedy  meeting  again 
on  the  Peninsula,  and  left  them  for  the  flotilla  before 
Stanton  could  find  means  to  overthrow  the  plan. 
Wallis  was  there  at  McClellan's  headquarters,  blithe, 
full  of  chat  and  spirits,  ready  for  anything  day  or  night 
as  they  lay  in  front  of  Yorktown.  He  was  much 
given  to  studying  guards  and  pickets;  much  inter- 
ested in  outpost  duty;  a  most  accomplished,  if  some- 
what patronizing,  instructor  of  the  volunteer  regi- 
ments of  which  the  army  was  mainly  composed,  for, 
except  a  detachment  or  two  for  provost  guard,  the 
regular  infantry  that  later  made  up  Sykes's  Division 
were  not  sent  to  McClellan  until  toward  summer. 
In  fine,  Wallis  made  his  mark  in  the  April  camps  of 
the  lower  Peninsula  almost  as  indelibly  as  he  had  upon 
the  Silver  Spoons  at  Washington,  and  there  were 
statesmen  from  the  North,  visiting  their  home  regi- 
ments and  being  received  with  much  empresscment  at 
certain  headquarters  messes,  who  went  home  quite 
full  of  the  idea  of  urging  their  respective  governors  to 
tender  a  regiment  to  Major  Wallis,  and  were  quite  as 
much  surprised  at  the  summary  refusal  of  the  War 
Department  to  permit  the  major  to  be  so  employed. 

One  soft  May  evening  there  was  a  late  gathering 
about  the  headquarters  tent  of  a  famous  division  com- 
mander, a  prime  favorite  with  the  commanding  gen- 


i68  A    BROKEN    SWORD. 

eraL,  who,  while  himself  a  prime  favorite  with  most 
officers  and  men,  was  still  chary  in  his  own  selection 
of  friends  and  counselors.  There  had  been  a  heavy 
cannonade  from  the  Confederate  lines  earlier  in  the 
evening.  It  was  a  dark  night,  too,  as  many  remem- 
bered later,  for  the  waning  moon  was  obscured  by 
heavy  clouds.  A  moist  wind  was  sweeping  up  from 
the  southeast,  yet  campfires  were  at  a  discount  be- 
cause they  attracted  gnats  and  mosquitoes.  Officers 
having  occasion  to  make  the  rounds  took  lanterns,  as 
a  rule,  and  when  Wallis  came  riding  in  from  the  front 
and,  throwing  the  reins  to  his  orderly  as  he  dis- 
mounted, joined  the  circle  seated  in  the  dim  rays  of 
the  swinging  lamp,  some  one  ventured  to  remark  that 
it  was  taking  chances  to  be  prowling  about  in  such 
pitchy  darkness  so  near  the  enemy's  lines.  "You  look 
sharp,  Wallis/'  continued  the  speaker — "first  thing 
you  know  we'll  hear  of  your  dining  with  Magruder." 

Even  in  that  faint  and  uncertain  light  there  was 
no  mistaking  the  sudden  start  with  which  Wallis  turned. 
His  eyes  fairly  glittered  as  they  fastened  on  the  of- 
fending officer.  There  wTas  a  moment  of  awkward 
silence — just  a  second  or  two — yet  even  then  there  were 
men  who  marveled  at  the  quickness  with  which  Wallis 
recovered  himself,  and  at  the  almost  insolent  noncha- 
lance of  the  reply : 

"No  such  luck,  I  fancy.  Prince  John  has  a  better 
table  than  de  Joinville  and  can  lisp  a  better  story.  I'd 
like  it,  of  all  things,  for  a  change."  Then  the  airy 
manner  vanished  on  the  instant  as  he  turned  all  sol- 


A    NIGHT    PATROL.  169 

dier  now,  to  the  handsome,  bearded  division  com- 
mander, "General,  may  I  speak  with  you  a  moment?" 

And  rising,  the  general  led  the  way  within  the  tent. 
The  broad  white  flaps  dropped  behind  them  and  another 
silence,  awkward  almost  as  the  first,  fell  on  the  seated 
circle.  One  officer,  a  young  aide-de-camp,  who  had 
been  an  attentive  listener,  arose  and  started  away. 
Another  hailed  him — he  who  had  so  recently  accosted 
Wallis — "What's  your  hurry,  Barclay?  I'll  go  with 
you." 

But  Barclay  gave  no  heed.  Swiftly  he  was  striding 
away  toward  the  dim  lights  of  some  neighboring  tents. 
Every  man  in  the  party  had  heard  in  some  way  that 
there  was  a  feud  between  the  dashing  major  and  this 
young  New  Yorker,  now  serving  at  headquarters  of 
the  Fourth  Corps.  Some  few  had  heard  of  the  affair 
at  Camp  Cameron  the  previous  summer.  One  of  them, 
he  who  hailed,  was  himself  a  New  Yorker;  a  man  of 
the  old  Seventh ;  a  friend  of  the  Rutherfords  and,  as 
Barclay  had  almost  palpably  ignored  him,  he  spoke  his 
next  words  in  apparent  pique. 

"Don't  want  to  have  to  meet  Wallis,  I  suppose,  yet 
they  used  to  be  thick  as  thieves!  What  made  Wallis 
turn  on  me  so  pointedly  I'd  like  to  know?  I've  said 
nothing  to  rile  him." 

The  question  was  hardly  asked  in  hope  of  answer. 
It  was  propounded  rather  through  the  necessity  of 
utterance  than  with  the  expectation  even  of  a  hearer. 
At  more  than  one  campfire  had  the  story  been  whis- 
pered that,  on  more  than  one  occasion,  the  pickets  de- 


ryo  A    BROKEN    SWORD. 

clared  Major  Wallis  had  passed  beyond  the  lines  at 
night,  alone  and  unattended,  carrying  no  lantern  and 
remaining  out  at  the  front  sometimes  more  than  an 
hour.  At  more  than  one  mess  was  it  known  that  Eu- 
gene Wallis,  after  changing  his  coat,  had  risen  to  a 
captain's  commission  in  the  Confederate  service,  and  had 
been  on  duty  in  and  about  Richmond  during  the  winter. 
These  two  stories  made  a  combination  Wallis  the  elder 
might  well  have  looked  upon  with  anxiety  had  he  been 
a  man  regardful  of  public  comment.  One  officer  there 
was,  riding  with  the  chief  of  the  little  cavalry  brigade, 
who  had  thought  enough  of  Wallis  to  tell  him  bluntly  of 
the  tales  in  circulation,  and  was  either  hurt  or  angered 
by  the  gay  disdain  with  which  his  well-meant  warning 
had  been  received.  At  all  events  he  no  more  favored 
the  dashing  soldier  with  his  counsel.  One  general  there 
was,  not  of  the  McClellan  coterie,  who  had  known  the 
Wallis  family  many  a  year;  had  loved  the  father  and 
was  near  him  when  he  fell  in  Mexico,  and  now  \vould 
gladly  have  stood  between  the  son  and  scandal;  but 
ever  since  the  early  winter,  when  the  veteran  officer  had 
sought  for  old  times'  sake  to  warn  the  younger,  a  gulf 
had  begun  to  grow  between  them.  Wallis  had  treated 
his  remonstrance  as  cavalierly  as  he  later  had  the  warn- 
ings of  his  trooper  friend,  and  now,  there  was  one  corps 
headquarters  which  he  never  visited  save  when  sent  on 
duty.  But  that,  said  those  who  noted  it,  might  be  due 
to  Barclay's  presence  there,  for  he  and  Barclay  passed 
each  other  without  recognition  of  any  kind.  And,  on 
this  moist  May  evening,  of  the  dozen  officers  gathered 


A    NIGHT    PATROL.  171 

about  the  tents  of  the  division  staff,  probably  not  one 
had  failed  to  note  how  sharply  Wallis  turned  on  the 
unwitting  disturber  of  his  equanimity,  and  then  how 
suddenly  Barclay  had  turned  away. 

It  was  a  trait  of  Wallis's  when  his  personal  affairs 
were  trenched  upon,  even  in  thoughtless  speech,  to 
make  the  offender  feel  the  sting  of  his  displeasure,  gen- 
erally by  exaggerated  hauteur  of  manner,  coupled  with 
some  icy  sarcasm.  To-night,  however,  he  had  quit  the 
field  content,  apparently,  to  get  away  without  having 
to  encounter  further  question  or  comment.  "Riled" 
he  might  have  been.  Startled  he  certainly  was,  but 
sharply  though  he  had  turned,  sharply  he  had  not 
spoken.  Something  seemed  to  warn  him  in  the  nick 
of  time  that  it  were  best  to  stir  no  rancor,  but  even 
to  pass  the  matter  over  as  too  trivial  for  further  remark. 
Not  so,  however,  did  the  others  regard  it;  for,  in  the 
silence  that  followed  that  one  comment  on  Barclay's 
withdrawal,  men  looked  at  each  other  and  then  at  the 
tent  within  whose  walls  the  general  and  his  visitor  were 
now  in  low-toned  conversation.  There  was  not  one 
that  did  not  see  in  Wallis's  manner  something  that  lent 
confirmation  to  the  story  floating  about  the  camp,  and 
Barclay  had  gone  rather  than  see  or  hear  more  of  it. 

That  night,  somewhere  about  twelve,  the  field  officer- 
of-the-day  in  passing  the  front  of  the  Vermont  Brigade 
was  accosted  by  a  young  lieutenant,  commanding 
the  support  of  certain  pickets  along  the  Warwick. 
"Major,"  said  he,  "my  sentries  out  near  the  creek  report 
a  great  deal  of  stir  and  movement  among  the  rebs. 


172  A    BROKEN    SWORD. 

Lights  have  been  flitting  about  over  there  toward  South- 
all's  Landing.  We  reported  it  to  Major  Wallis,  who 
was  out  here  half  an  hour  ago,  but  he  said  it  meant 
nothing.  He  went  out  and  looked  and  listened." 

"Where  is  he  now?"  asked  the  division  officer,  with 
evident  interest. 

"Gone  over  to  the  right,  I  suppose,  sir.  At  least  he 
didn't  return  this  way." 

The  officer  stood  in  silence  a  moment  and  in  deep 
thought.  He  was  one  of  those  many  soldiers  that  came 
the  first  few  months  of  the  war,  high  in  rank  among 
the  earlier  regiments  from  the  New  England  and 
Middle  States — men  of  reading,  knowledge  and  pro- 
fessional standing,  imbued  with  lofty  patriotism  and 
deep  sense  of  duty,  lacking  almost  everything  in  the 
way  of  experience  in  matters  military,  but  gifted  with 
the  reasoning  powers  and  general  education  that 
speedily  set  them  on  a  plane  with  those  possessing  all 
that  constant  touch  and  contact  with  the  regulars  could 
possibly  furnish,  but  had  studied  little  else.  To  such  as 
these  Major  Wallis  had  been  an  object  lesson  all  the 
days  he  rode  in  command  of  the  newly  raised  — teenth. 
They  watched  him  on  drill  and  parade  with  eyes  that 
envied  not  a  little  the  ease  and  grace,  the  power  and 
swing  of  his  command ;  then  went  back  to  their  tactics 
and  read,  memorized  and  compared  to  the  end  that  they 
found  themselves  constantly  benefited  by  the  lesson  and 
speedily  able  to  drill  and  handle  their  own  battalions 
with  far  more  skill  and  celerity  than  would  otherwise 
have  been  possible.  To  such  men  as  this  New  England 


A    NIGHT    PATROL.  173 

major,  learned  in  the  law,  and  steadied  and  strength- 
ened by  Harvard  schooling,  Wallis  was  a  soldier  who 
gave  promise  of  great  results.  They  looked  upon  him, 
for  the  first  few  months,  with  infinite  admiration  and 
respect,  and  were  slow  to  confess  to  themselves  and 
loath  to  admit  to  others  that,  as  they  speedily  broadened 
in  the  field  of  martial  experience,  he  as  surely  nar- 
rowed in  their  esteem.  It  was  not  good  in  the  eyes  of 
men  so  loyal  to  the  flag,  so  fervently  alive  to  the  national 
peril  and  need  that  this  mould  of  military  form,  the 
observed  of  so  many  observers,  should  seem  to  hold  so 
lightly  men  and  methods  that  were  the  necessity  of  the 
hour,  and  deserving,  so  they  thought,  the  most  zealous 
and  conscientious  support  of  all  loyal  soldiers.  It 
shocked  them — there  is  no  lighter  word  for  it — that 
Wallis  should  so  often  speak  contemptuously  of  the  new 
war  secretary  and  so  often  refer  in  terms  almost  dis- 
dainful of  their  great  executive  and  commander-in- 
chief.  It  startled  them  to  hear  this  brilliant  staff  officer, 
and  therefore,  possibly,  ex  offrcio  exponent  of  the  views 
of  the  commanding  general,  so  frequently  sneer  at 
the  plans,  and  so  flippantly  dispose  of  the  members  of 
the  President's  official  household.  And  it  rankled  in  the 
breasts  of  many  of  their  number  that  Wallis  should 
so  often  speak  in  terms  of  boundless  admiration  of  men 
prominent  in  the  Southern  service  and  so  seldom  find 
words  of  confidence  or  respect  for  those  that  wore  the 
blue.  Add  to  all  this  the  incessant  buzz  and  talk  about 
his  disregard  of  the  observance  of  ordinary  precautions ; 
his  constant  goings  to  and  fro  at  the  far  front;  his 


174  A    BROKEN    SWORD. 

nonchalant  treatment  of  officers  and  sentries  along  the 
picket  line,  who,  in  the  performance  of  their  duties, 
sought  to  curb  or  at  least  to  warn  him;  his  excursions 
and  long  absences  after  dark,  and  the  soldier  reader 
can  see  at  a  glance  that  Harold  Wallis  had  more  than 
undermined  his  own  repute,  for  stories  such  as  these 
are  most  destructive.  It  nettles  men  to  have  their 
cautions  or  commands  ignored,  and  among  these  "think- 
ing bayonets"  of  the  volunteers  were  dozens  who  had 
seen  and  talked  with  the  major  along  the  front,  and  of 
him  not  too  guardedly  at  the  campfires  later;  and  this 
particular  field  officer-of-the-day  of  the  Fourth  Corps 
was  thinking  of  all  this  as  he  remounted  after  listening 
to  the  report  of  the  officer  of  the  picket  and  thinking, 
too,  of  the  events  of  the  earlier  evening.  That  cannon- 
ade had  been  of  unusual  vehemence  for  two  or  three 
hours — the  Southern  guns  from  Yorktown  clear  over 
to  Southall's  on  the  Warwick,  opening  furiously  on  the 
Union  lines,  and  keeping  up  their  fire  with  lively 
interest  long  after  the  sun  went  down.  Some  officers 
held  it  to  be  the  prelude  to  a  sortie,  and  there  were 
division  commanders  who  thought  it  wise  to  hold  their 
men  in  ranks,  and  to  double  their  advance  posts.  One 
or  two  had  gone  so  far  as  to  acquaint  McClellan  with 
their  theories,  and  were  rewarded  by  the  placid  and  im- 
perturbable smile  which  that  courteous  commander  had 
ever  in  reserve  for  those  whose  views  were  at  variance 
with  his  own.  Whether  sortie  or  not,  the  cannonade 
portended  something,  however,  said  men  like  Keyes  and 
old  "Bull"  Sumner.  McClellan  had  npt  taken  the  War 


A    NIGHT    PATROL.  175 

Department  into  his  confidence  during  the  long  months 
of  weary  waiting,  and,  when  it  came  to  naming  corps 
commanders  in  the  spring,  there  may  have  been  retalia- 
tion. At  least,  more  than  one  was  not  of  McClellan's 
choosing,  and  he  little  liked  it  that  any  of  their  number 
should  say  Magruder  or  his  fellows  meant  a  move  of 
any  kind  when  he  would  will  it  otherwise. 

Yet  here  was  confirmation  of  the  views  expressed  by 
generals  not  of  the  court  circle.  Something  certainly 
was  astir  beyond  the  Warwick,  and  it  had  been  re- 
ported to  one  of  the  headquarters  staff,  had  it  ? — and  he 
said  there  was  nothing  in  it,  did  he  ?  and  was  still  some- 
where out  there  to  the  right  front,  was  he?  H'm — 
Major  Holman  stroked  his  beard;  left  his  horse  with 
the  support  and,  taking  his  bearings  from  the  sergeant 
of  the  nearest  picket,  the  stars  being  obscured,  felt  his 
way  out  to  the  Warwick  front  for  further  observation 
on  his  own  account. 

Only  toward  the  center  and  right  of  the  Fourth  Corps 
had  there  been  comparatively  close  touch  with  the 
Confederate  pickets.  The  center  and  left  were  covered 
by  the  swampy  banks  of  the  lower  Warwick,  and  no 
reports  of  consequence  came  this  night  from  the  out- 
lying sentries  there.  It  was  over  in  front  of  Southall's, 
and  along  the  road  to  Lee's  Mills,  the  flitting  lights  had 
been  seen,  the  sounds  of  movement  noted;  and  some- 
where toward  one  o'clock  Major  Holman,  crouching 
with  a  corporal  and  sentry  at  the  side  of  a  muddy  lane, 
and  straining  their  ears  to  catch  the  sounds  still  coming 
at  intervals  from  the  farther  side  of  the  stream,  were 


176  A    BROKEN    SWORD. 

joined  by  another  officer  creeping  through  the  darkness 
from  the  rearward  line.  In  muffled  whisper  he  gave 
his  name,  Lieutenant  Barclay,  and  accosted  Major 
Holman : 

"They  told  me  you  were  out  here  somewhere,  and 
the  general  was  anxious  to  hear  further,  so  I  came  on 
in  search  of  you.  Anything  new  ?" 

As  if  in  answer,  somewhere  ahead,  in  the  dim  vista 
of  the  narrow  roadway,  there  sounded  the  shrill,  im- 
patient neigh  of  a  horse. 

"Odd,"  muttered  Holman.  "I  should  think  those 
fellows  knew  enough  not  to  ride  so  close  to  us.  That 
horse  can't  be  a  hundred  yards  away." 

"It  isn't  those  fellows,  sir,"  answered  the  corporal, 
with  quiet  decision.  "That's  one  of  our  own — Major 
Wallis." 

"You  don't  mean  you  permitted  him  to  go  out, 
mounted,  in  front  of  the  line !"  exclaimed  Major  Hol- 
man, angered  and  excited  at  once. 

"Permitted  nothing  of  the  sort,  sir,"  was  the  answer, 
prompt  and  aggrieved.  "He  must  have  passed  out  some- 
where else.  He  was  outside  and  rode  in  from  the  out- 
side half  an  hour  ago — said  there  was  a  tree  there  from 
which  he  could  hear  everything  going  on  across  the 
bridge.  I  had  no  order  to  make  him  come  inside." 

"I  feel  that  /  have  some  authority  in  the  premises, 
however,"  spoke  the  major,  in  low  yet  excited  under- 
tone. "If  he  can  be  safe  out  there  so  can  we.  Shall  we 
try  it,  Mr.  Barclay?" 

And  without  verbal  answer,  Barclay  rose  at  once  and 


A    NIGHT    PATROL.  177 

followed.  Fifteen,  twenty  yards  they  gropea  through 
the  darkness,  and  finally  reached  the  little  clump  of 
bushes  near  the  roadside.  Noiseless  and  wary,  speak- 
ing no  word,  they  crouched  here  and  listened.  For  a 
moment  only  an  occasional  stir  of  leaf  or  stamp  of  hoof 
rewarded  their  patience.  Then  again  began  that  shrill, 
impatient  neigh,  close  at  hand ;  then  followed  the  sound 
of  a  sharp  blow,  a  low-toned,  angry  "Shut  up,  you 
fool !"  half  drowned  in  the  instant  sputter  of  iron-shod 
feet,  as  the  animal  started  at  the  blow.  Then  deeper, 
quieter  tones — reproach  and  sympathy  intermingled. 

"Steady,  old  fellow !  Steady,  boy !"  Then  "How  can 
you  be  such  a  brute,  Eugene?  If  your  horse  won't 
stand  away  from  his  mates  you  shouldn't  bring  him." 
And  Holman  felt  that  Barclay's  hand,  landing  at  that 
instant  on  his  arm,  was  trembling  violently.  It  was 
the  voice  of  Major  Wallis  beyond  shadow  of  a  doubt. 

"Are  you  armed?"  whispered  Holman. 

"Revolver,"  answered  Barclay. 

"We  must  get  that  fellow  with  him.  Better  shed  our 
swords  here." 

Silently  Barclay  strove  to  unfasten  the  slings,  but  his 
fingers  twitched  unaccountably.  Impatient,  therefore, 
he  drew  off  belt  and  all  and  laid  them  on  the  sod,  as 
Holman  had  done  with  his.  The  clumsy  weapon  of  that 
day  would  indeed  only  have  been  in  the  way  in  the  dark- 
ness. The  low  murmur  of  voices  still  continued — one 
voice  querulous,  protesting,  complaining,  the  other  deep 
and  commanding,  yet  at  times  almost  pleading.  "Come 
on,"  whispered  Holman,  and  together  the  two  went 


178  A    BROKEN    SWORD. 

creeping  forward,  only  to  step,  one  of  them,  on  some 
dry,  fallen  branch  that  snapped  short  under  the  heavily 
booted  foot  and  gave  instant  alarm.  Sharp  and  sud- 
den, but  still  low,  came  the  soldier  challenge.  "Halt! 
Who  are  you  ?"  emphasized  by  the  click  of  a  lock. 

"Field  officer-of-the-day !  Halt  you  and  him  with 
you !  Surrender !"  came  the  vehement  answer  in  Hoi- 
man's  firm  tones. 

"Oh — ah!"  and  then  an  airy  laugh.  "Is  that  you, 
major?  We're  out  on  the  same  errand,  I  fancy. 
They've  been  doing  some  hauling  to  and  fro,  apparently. 
Guns,  I  should  judge " 

"Major  Wallis,"  burst  in  Holman,  insistent  and  de- 
termined, "there  was  some  one  with  you!  Where  is 
he?"  for  in  the  dim  light  no  other  form  was  distinguish- 
able. Nor  was  there  sound  of  retreating  footfall. 

"Did  you  hear  them,  too?  Why  didn't  I  know  you 
were  there — we  might  have  nabbed  them!  Two  of 
them,  I  think — ah — if  not  indeed  more — a  Confederate 
patrol,  probably,  that  I  ran  across  here  in  the  woods, 
and  had  some  difficulty  in — ah — in  persuading  them 
that  I  was  one  of  their  own  people.  You  can  imagine 
how — ah — relieved  I  was  to  hear  your  footsteps." 


CHAPTER   XIV. 

A  GRAVE  ACCUSATION. 

AT  two  o'clock  on  the  moist  and  misty  morning  of 
the  fourth  of  May  all  about  McClellan's  field 
headquarters  in  front  of  Yorktown,  with  the  exception 
of  the  guard  and  one  staff  officer,  seemed  wrapped  in 
peaceful  repose.  Major  Wallis,  returned  to  his  tent, 
had  not  even  stirred  up  his  negro  servant  to  pull  off  his 
wet  riding  boots.  Major  Holman,  on  the  other  hand, 
at  a  distant  point  of  the  line,  had  stirred  up  half  a  dozen 
officers  in  the  Fourth  Corps,  and  gone  again  to  the  front, 
convinced  that  matters  in  the  neighborhood  of  Lee's 
Mills  would  bear  looking  into. 

To  begin  with,  while  he  had  stood  for  the  moment, 
parleying  with  Wallis  in  front  of  the  picket  line,  Bar- 
clay had  made  a  dash  forward  in  pursuit  of  a  figure  only 
dimly  seen  apparently  stealing  across  the  road  some 
dozen  yards  away.  In  the  thick  darkness,  however,  he 
had  missed  his  man.  But  the  fact  that  one  and  only 
one  was  then  seen,  coupled  with  the  further  fact  that  a 
horse  was  heard  trotting  off  through  the  trees  and  then 
galloping  toward  the  Warwick,  threw  grave  doubt  on 
Wallis's  tale  of  the  patrol.  Furthermore,  Barclay  had 
heard  both  voices  and  the  mention  of  the  name  Eugene 
— things  he  had  no  time  to  explain  to  Holman  then 

179 


i8o  A    BROKEN    SWORD. 

when  that  officer  insisted  on  escorting  Major  Wallis 
back  to  the  line,  but  that  had  determined  him  not  to 
abandon  the  search.  He  was  still  there  when  Holman 
left  with  Wallis  in  practically  enforced  escort,  but  he 
was  gone,  and  no  man  within  the  Union  lines  could  say 
how  or  whither,  when,  ten  minutes  later,  Holman  again 
reached  the  spot,  bringing  with  him  a  sergeant  and  a 
squad  of  Green  Mountain  boys.  They  searched;  they 
whistled  low;  they  called  in  cautious  tone;  they  even 
advanced  the  sentry  line  as  much  as  a  hundred  yards, 
and,  having  passed  the  point  where  the  interview  had 
taken  place,  dared  to  light  lanterns  and  scout  the  road 
and  the  scattered  timber,  and  all  without  rousing  a  shot 
from  the  usually  over-ready  riflemen  along  the  stream. 
The  early  dawn  brought  to  Holman  the  unwelcome  con- 
viction that  his  young  comrade  had  been  spirited  away, 
and  that  after  all  there  must  have  been  a  patrol.  The 
later  dawn,  the  rosy  light  that  tells  of  the  speedy  com- 
ing of  the  sun,  told  even  more, — that  the  muffled  sounds 
of  stir  and  movement  in  the  Southern  lines  across  the 
Warwick  had  indeed  meant  something  more  than  shift- 
ing guns.  All  that  was  left  of  Johnny  Reb  was  a  brace 
of  scarecrow,  dummy  sentries,  in  tattered  gray  in  front 
of  the  mills.  Magruder  and  his  accomplished  fellow 
soldiers,  Longstreet  and  D.  H.  Hill,  had  been  skillfully 
withdrawn  by  their  commander,  Joe  Johnston,  and 
were  now  in  leisurely  retreat  toward  Richmond. 

And  not  for  a  moment,  would  it  seem,  had  the  move- 
ment, though  begun  early  the  night  of  the  third,  been 
credited  or  suspected  in  McClellan's  charmed  circle  at 


A    GRAVE   ACCUSATION.  181 

headquarters.  The  news  came  like  a  shock,  but  found 
the  chieftain  calm  and  placid  as  before.  Not  until  noon 
was  a  column  ready  to  start  in  pursuit.  Settled  down 
for  siege  operations  as  was  the  army,  even  the  cavalry 
could  not  set  forth  without  something  to  eat ;  but  when 
they  finally  started,  Harold  Wallis  went  with  them.  He 
had  been  riding  about  in  a  fume  of  energy  and  eager- 
ness since  the  coming  of  the  news  soon  after  sunrise. 
He  knew  something  of  the  country,  was  the  explana- 
tion,— more  of  it,  at  least,  than  did  any  other  officer 
of  the  staff, — for  he  had  spent  much  time  at  Richmond 
and  at  Fortress  Monroe  years  before,  and  had  been  the 
guest  of  old-time  families  along  the  York  when  snipe 
and  canvasback,  respectively,  were  ripe  for  shooting. 
He,  at  least,  had  shown  unwonted  excitement  at  the 
tidings ;  had  indeed  seemed  for  a  moment  almost  dazed ; 
for,  only  the  evening  before  when  more  than  one  officer 
of  rank  had  come  in  to  speak  of  the  significant  sounds 
along  the  front,,  Wallis  had  been  heard  to  pooh-pooh  the 
idea  of  a  possible  evacuation  of  the  rebel  works.  "Joe 
Johnston  wouldn't  think  of  such  a  thing,"  said  he,  "so 
long  as  we  can  only  attack  in  front."  Yet  morning 
came  to  prove  Joe  Johnston  gone  and  Wallis  a  much 
mistaken  man — a  much  disgusted  and  disturbed  man, 
too,  unless  all  signs  failed,  for  never  had  the  debonair 
major  been  known  to  show  such  haste  and  discomposure. 
He  seemed  to  dread  the  possibility  of  being  questioned. 
He  seemed  consumed  with  eagerness  to  get  away,  and, 
in  all  the  scurry  and  excitement  that  prevailed  along  the 
Union  lines  only  scant  attention  was  given  the  story 


i82  A    BROKEN    SWORD. 

that  Lieutenant  Barclay  of  the  Fourth  Corps  had  been 
captured  after  midnight,  and  there  was  no  time  until 
some  days  later  to  investigate  the  strange  report  of 
Major  Holman,  late  field  officer-of-the-day. 

Holman,  of  course,  had  gone  with  his  division, — one 
of  the  two  started  soon  after  noon.  Hooker,  from  the 
Third  Corps,  pushing  out  on  the  right,  skirting  the 
abandoned  works  at  Yorktown,  while  "Baldy"  Smith, 
of  the  Fourth  Corps,  filed  into  the  road  where  Wallis 
had  had  more  than  one  scout  on  his  own  account,  and 
strode  away  through  the  gathering  storm,  en  route  for 
Williamsburg  by  way  of  the  Mills.  Even  in  the 
eagerness  of  pursuit,  some  men  would  stray  and  go  to 
exploring  the  vacated  camp  grounds  of  their  recent 
entertainers,  and  some  of  these  unhallowed  spirits  came 
upon  curious  mementos  of  Magruder's  occupation  of  a 
comfortable,  old-fashioned  Virginia  homestead,  not  so 
very  far  from  the  Skiff's  Creek  Road.  Champagne 
bottles  were  there  in  profusion,  and  the  disjecta  membra 
of  not  long  finished  feasts.  And  while  the  general 
movement  of  the  rebs  had  been  leisurely  and  composed, 
there  were  indications  of  unseemly  haste  about  Prince 
John's  premises — indications  later  explained  by  the  fact 
that  he  had  been  called  upon  to  head  the  procession 
toward  the  interior,  leaving  to  young  Jeb  Stuart,  with 
his  Virginia  Horse,  the  duty  of  covering  the  extreme 
rear.  In  point  of  fact,  Prince  John  must  have  quit  in 
something  of  a  hurry,  said  officers  who  glanced  over 
the  mementos  picked  up  by  the  men,  for  some  of  these 
were  of  such  a  character  that,  when  they  were  shown  to 


A    GRAVE   ACCUSATION.  183 

the  general  commanding  the  last  brigade  in  column  to 
cross  the  Warwick  by  the  lower  road,  he  gave  vent  to  an 
expletive  that  startled  every  man  of  his  staff. 

It  was  late  in  the  afternoon  when  the  cavalry  caught 
up  with  the  Confederate  rear  guard,  well  out  in  front 
of  Williamsburg.  The  latter  had  some  six  hours'  start, 
but  waited — and  wanted — to  be  caught  and  wondered 
when  they  reached  the  Half -Way  House  why  Stone- 
man's  troopers  were  not  in  sight,  and  what  all  this 
placid  indifference  to  their  coming  or  going  could  pos- 
sibly mean.  If  this  was  a  specimen  of  Yankee  curiosity, 
there  was  nothing  harmful  in  it.  If,  on  the  other  hand, 
it  was  all  meant  as  indicative  of  contemptuous  disdain, 
then  was  it  indeed  offensive,  and  something  should  be 
done  forthwith  to  show  McClellan  the  Southern  cavalier 
was  not  a  fellow  to  be  trifled  with.  So  Stuart's  men 
deployed ;  and  when,  through  the  lowering  rain  clouds, 
the  dripping  ponchos  of  the  regulars  began  to  show 
down  the  muddy  road,  they  saluted  the  coming  force 
with  a  crackle  of  carbines  that  brought  the  skirmishers' 
"front  into  line"  at  swift  trot,  and  so,  despite  the  in- 
clemency of  the  weather,  the  May  day  picnic  began  in 
all  its  jollity. 

But  meanwhile  the  imperturbable  head  of  the  army 
was  leisurely,  after  his  fashion,  proceeding  to  make 
himself  comfortable  in  Yorktown.  After  investing  a 
position  something  like  a  month,  and  much  money  in 
siege  trains,  mortar  batteries  and  big  guns;  employ- 
ing engineers  in  planning  trench  approaches,  parallels, 
platforms  and  the  like,  and  many  men  in  making  sap 


184  A    BROKEN    SWORD. 

rollers,  fascines  and  gabions  by  the  acre,  it  did  seem 
to  him  disappointing  on  the  part  of  Johnston  to  per- 
mit all  this  outlay  of  time,  money,  field  works  and 
war  material  and  then,  just  when  Little  Mac  felt  pre- 
pared for  a  big  time,  and  had  invited  his  guests  to 
see  the  bombardment  begin,  these  unchivalric  South- 
rons should  slip  quietly  away  and  leave  none  but  grin- 
ning darkies  to  receive  the  strangers  within  their 
gates.  Field  officers  of  the  Holman  type  knew  not 
what  to  make  of  this  sort  of  a  siege,  anyhow.  In  all 
they  had  ever  read  or  heard  of,  the  doomed  city  was 
surrounded  by  the  besiegers, — cut  off  from  supplies 
or  reinforcements,  and  compelled,  eventually  at  least, 
to  capitulate  with  the  honors  of  war.  But  here  this 
noted  organizer  and  distinguished  engineer  laid  siege 
to  a  practically  straight  line,  flanked  by  impassable 
streams  and  provided  with  a  natural  ditch,  a  line  the 
defenders  could  hold  with  small  force  against  a  big 
one, — hold  as  long  as  they  cared  to  or  quit  when  they 
liked.  Yet  there  was  astonishment  and  deep  chagrin 
in  these  well  arranged  headquarters  that  Johnston 
should  have  been  so  unfeeling  as  to  abandon  works 
as  yet  unfelt.  Headquarters  moved  within  the  lines 
of  the  historic  town,  content  with  having  sent  Hooker 
and  Smith  to  keep  the  enemy  going;  and,  from  having 
felt  sure  that  Johnston  would  stay  to  fight  along  the 
Warwick,  headquarters  seemed  now  as  sure  he 
wouldn't  stay  to  fight  at  all,  even  at  Williamsburg, 
where  he  had  another  line  of  forts.  So  Stoneman, 
with  the  cavalry,  and  Sumner  and  Heintzelman,  with 


A    GRAVE   ACCUSATION.  185 

a  division  apiece  instead  of  a  corps,  and  conflicting 
instructions  instead  of  concert  of  action,  rode  out  to 
the  west,  each  of  the  two  leaders  supposing  himself 
to  be  in  sole  charge  of  the  pursuing  force  and  both 
getting  boggled  up  through  orders  and  cross  roads 
alike  confusing.  Smith's  men  got  into  the  way  of 
Hooker;  Hooker  crossed  over  and  took,  as  a  result, 
the  way  intended  for  Smith;  and  neither,  as  a  conse- 
quence, was  near  at  hand  when  needed  late  that 
afternoon,  where  good  old  Uncle  Bill  Emory,  with 
Dick  Rush's  Pennsylvania  lancers  and  Jeff.  Davis's 
former  pets  of  the  Fifth  regulars,  stirred  up  Stuart 
himself  and  might  then  and  there  have  headed  off  the 
most  brilliant  and  daring  career  known  to  cavalry 
tradition  had  there  been  any  kind  of  support.  Then 
came  a  night  of  wet  wanderings  through  mud  and 
tangle,  and  marchings  to  and  fro  till  after  ten,  when 
the  battle  lines  lay  down  in  the  woods  and  woke  up 
fronting  the  bristling  works  of  Williamsburg. 

Sumner  by  this  time  was  sore-headed ;  Heintzelman 
in  a  pet;  Hooker,  who  had  started  on  the  right,  had 
got  over  to  the  left.  Smith,  who  had  started  on  the 
left,  was  now  over  at  the  right;  and  Couch,  Casey  and 
Kearny,  who  had  followed  the  advance  with  their  di- 
visions, were  bivouacked  along  the  wood  roads  within 
supporting  distance  and  without  supper.  Three  corps 
commanders  put  their  heads  together  in  the  early 
morning  and  tried  to  put  their  corps;  but,  only  five 
divisions  being  on  the  ground,  and  inextricably  mixed 
at  that,  division  was  impossible.  In  pelting  rain,  in 


i86  A    BROKEN    SWORD. 

sticky  mud  and  minus  plan  of  any  kind  except  ''pitch 
in,"  the  battle  of  Williamsburg  began  soon  after  the 
dripping  dawn,  and  lasted  here  and  there  until  the 
night,  Hooker  bearing  all  the  onus  on  the  left,  Han- 
cock all  the  honors  on  the  right.  Through  utter  lack 
of  concerted  action  or  a  common  head,  five  fine  divi- 
sions fought  or  fumed  through  much  of  the  livelong 
day,  while  McClellan,  back  at  Yorktown,  was  placidly 
supervising  the  steamboat  excursion  planned  for  his 
friends  of  Franklin's  and  Fitz  John  Porter's  fine  com- 
mands, and  seemed  quite  surprised  when  told  toward 
three  o'clock  that  things  were  more  than  mixed,  and 
that  he  would  better  hie  him  to  the  front.  We  had 
lost  five  guns  and  twice  a  thousand  men  in  fruitless 
fighting  when,  at  five  o'clock,  staff  officers  came  spur- 
ring out  to  say  that  victory  and  Little  Mac  were  com- 
ing. Whereat,  like  little  men,  both  volunteer  and 
regular,  our  gallant  lads  set  up  their  heartiest  cheer 
and  straightened  out  their  lines  to  do  him  proper 
honor.  Three  heads  are  better  than  one,  say  wise- 
acres who  know  nothing  of  war,  and  if  that  be  so, 
what  blessed  mercy  it  was  we  had,  like  Cerberus,  the 
tripled  cephalus: — with  only  one  we  might  have  lost 
our  all. 

But  there  were  men  that  day  that  fought  magnifi- 
cently, and  for  many  it  was  their  baptism  of  fire. 
Hooker  hammered  away  and  got  hammered  for  hours 
at  a  time,  with  never  a  man  or  musket  to  help.  Han- 
cock led  his  brigade  across  a  narrow  dyke,  and 
handled  it  as  daintily  in  battle  as  ever  he  did  on  drill, 


A    GRAVE   ACCUSATION.  187 

winning  two  redoubts  and  nearly  all  the  glory;  while 
among  the  soldiers  conspicuous  for  energy,  daring 
and  ceaseless  effort,  having  two  horses  killed  under 
him  before  the  sun  was  half-way  high,  and  having  per- 
sonally led  the  charge  of  two  battalions  faltering  for 
lack  of  field  officers  of  their  own,  Harold  Wallis,  the 
debonair  major  of  the  Silver  Spoons,  the  brilliant  aide- 
de-camp  of  the  commanding  general,  the  gifted  enter- 
tainer of  the  House  of  Orleans — Harold  Wallis,  more 
than  any  one  man  in  the  six  divisions  present  on  the 
field,  had  most  attracted  the  cheer  and  admiration  of 
the  fighting  lines.  Harold  Wallis  it  was  who,  splashed 
with  mire  from  head  to  foot,  was  first  to  meet  his  little 
chieftain  as  the  latter,  late  toward  evening,  reached 
the  still  smoke-veiled  field,  and  won  from  the  grate- 
ful young  leader's  lips  a  word  or  two  of  praise  that 
went  like  wildfire  through  the  bivouacs  that  dismal 
night,  and  made  him  the  envied  and  applauded  of  ten 
thousand  stalwart  men,  not  one  of  whom  that  would 
not  gladly  have  given  a  hand  for  half  the  praise  be- 
stowed on  him. 

But  the  envied  man  is  seldom  too  secure: — there  is 
no  mark  so  sought  by  calumny.  The  very  fact  that 
Wallis  had  so  distinguished  himself  and  had  further 
been  so  singled  out  for  highest  commendation  was  in 
itself  sufficient  to  start  the  stings  of  those  whose  deeds 
had  been  as  inconspicuous  as  their  words  were  now 
malignant.  The  army  went  on  up  the  Peninsula,  and 
so  did  the  story,  until  the  former  reached  the  Chicka- 
hominy  and  the  latter  the  Secretary  of  War,  by  which 


i88  A    BROKEN    SWORD. 

time  both  had  outgrown  the  proportions  of  the  early 
part  of  May.  The  regulars  had  come  to  reinforce  the 
one,  the  Silver  Spoons  among  them,  and  further  tales 
had  speedily  been  told  to  reinforce  the  other;  nor  were 
they  groundless. 

Williamsburg  had  made  a  hero  of  Harold  Wallis 
among  the  rank  and  file  as  well  as  among  many  of 
their  officers.  Whatever  may  have  been  their  opinion 
of  him,  based  on  the  stories  of  his  venturings  beyond 
the  line  and  his  communication  with  the  soldiers  of 
the  South,  no  man  could  now  say  in  their  presence 
that  he  shunned  a  soldier's  part  on  the  field  of  battle, 
for  braver  man  they  never  saw.  Even  Hancock  had 
not  been  more  superb  in  leadership.  Those  who  re- 
membered all  his  midnight  prowlings  would  now  have 
it  that  he  was  periling  his  life  to  obtain  needed  infor- 
mation for  his  chief.  Those  who  said  he  had  means 
of  meeting  rebel  officers  between  the  lines  were  told 
he  met  them  as  McClellan's  confidential  officer,  to 
arrange  exchange  of  prisoners  or  other  amenities  of 
war.  Yet,  at  the  headquarters  of  several  brigades 
and  those  of  at  least  two  divisions  and  one  Corps 
d'Armee,  it  was  known  that  matter  of  a  compromising 
character  had  actually  been  found  and  sent  to  Wash- 
ington soon  after  the  advance  began, — that  report 
concerning  it  had  actually  been  made  before  the  halt 
at  Bottom's  Bridge, — that  McClellan  had  actually 
called  on  Wallis  to  explain,  and  there  was^  amaze  and 
incredulity  in  certain  quarters  when,  with  the  sanction 
of  high  authority,  the  report  was  set  in  circulation 


A    GRAVE   ACCUSATION.  189 

that  Major  Wallis  had  explained  and  his  explanation 
was  entirely  satisfactory  to  the  commanding  general. 

Little  wonder  is  it  that  after  this  episode  the  de- 
meanor of  Harold  Wallis  to  those  he  knew  to  be  de- 
tractors, and  to  the  dozen  he  believed  to  be,  became, 
if  possible,  more  affably  disdainful  than  ever  before. 
He  never  so  much  as  uttered  a  word  of  reproach  to 
Holman,  the  originator  of  the  first  official  report  to 
his  discredit.  ''Major  Holman,"  said  he,  "was  a 
stranger  to  my  past  and  to  my  profession.  He  saw 
what  he  could  not  understand  and  what  to  his  limited 
education  in  such  matters  looked  suspicious.  He 
acted  from  sincere  motives  and  supreme  ignorance. 
I  have  nothing  but  commiseration  for  him." 

But  when  a  fellow  Silver  Spoon  told  Wallis  that  there 
were  men  in  the  cavalry  brigades  and  in  the  horse 
and  field  artillery,  as  well  as  the  Fourth  Corps,  .who 
were  of  Holman's  way  of  thinking,  his  attitude  knew 
instant  change.  Barclay  had  not  yet  been  exchanged, 
so  he  could  not  be  responsible.  Bernard  Hoyt,  with 
his  volunteer  troopers,  was  still  scouting  in  front  of 
Washington,  so  his  avowed  and  open  enmity  was  not 
the  cause  of  this  growing  conviction  among  even  the 
professionals  of  the  Army  of  the  Potomac  that  Little 
Mac  was  being  deceived  in  his  trusted  staff  officer, 
and  Wallis,  affecting  utter  indifference  to  the  calum- 
nies of  the  envious,  as  he  declared  all  tales  at  his  ex- 
pense to  be,  and  feigning  lazy  nonchalence  even  when 
there  were  moments  when  he  must  have  felt  the  cold- 
ness and  constraint  of  soldiers  honored  among  their 


A    BROKEN    SWORD. 

kind,  was  now  praying  for  another  Williamsburg  to 
help  him  stifle  scandal  by  further  show  of  brilliant  and 
daring  services  in  action,  when  there  came  an  episode 
that  set  all  tongues  again  to  wagging  and  brought 
matters  to  a  startling  climax. 

It  was  the  night  of  the  almost  awful  tropic  storm 
that  preceded  Johnston's  furious  attack  at  Fair  Oaks; 
and,  in  all  the  crash  of  thunder  and  the  vivid  play  of 
sheet  lightning,  some  horses  of  a  field  battery  far  to 
the  front  stampeded,  and  in  their  terror  broke  away 
westward,  straight  for  the  Confederate  lines,  where 
they  were  doubtless  made  welcome.  It  so  happened 
that  Harold  Wallis  had  been  riding  that  part  of  the 
front  not  twenty  minutes  earlier,  and  had  taken  tem- 
porary refuge  at  General  Casey's  headquarters,  when 
a  young  Confederate  officer,  stunned  and  drenched 
and  well-nigh  senseless,  was  borne  in  on  a  blanket. 
The  pickets  had  heard  faint  cries  for  help,  and  ven- 
turing forward,  had  found  this  luckless  soldier  close 
to  the  line  and  alone,  evidently  knocked  down  in  the 
tornado-like  rush  of  the  frantic  brutes.  While  sur- 
geons tenderly  examined  and  aided  him,  some  papers 
fell  from  the  open  breast  of  the  gray  uniform.  A 
major  of  the  staff  stooped;  picked  up  the  little  packet; 
turned  it  over,  glanced  at  the  superscription,  then, 
visibly  paling,  looked  straight  at  Wallis,  at  that  mo- 
ment in  low-toned  conversation  with  the  veteran 
division  commander.  The  almost  deathlike  stillness 
that  fell  on  the  group  was  broken  by  his  words : 

"Why,  Major  Wallis,  this  is  addressed  to  you!" 


CHAPTER    XV. 

A    SUPREME    MOMENT. 

IN  all  the  mud,  rain  and  misery  of  the  fortnight  that 
followed  on  the  heels  of  Fair  Oaks,  men  went 
wading  about  among  the  shifting  camps  from  Gol- 
den's  to  White  Oak  swamp,  and  talked — for  they 
couldn't  help  it — of  this  queer  business  concerning 
Major  Wallis.  The  story  grew  as  a  matter  of  course. 
Incessant  rain  will  expand  almost  anything  but  tent- 
cords.  Wallis  had  been  sent  to  the  rear  in  close 
arrest.  Wallis  was  to  be  tried  by  drumhead  court- 
martial — that  being  the  most  summary  of  the  sum- 
mary courts  then  known  to  military  procedure.  Wal- 
lis stood  in  danger  of  being  shot  or  hanged.  Even 
among  officers  of  rank  there  were  not  lacking  ad- 
vocates of  extreme  measures,  if  only  for  the  ex- 
ample. Wallis  and  Wallis's  disregard  of  all  martial 
conventionalities  in  presence  of  the  enemy  were  de- 
clared to  be  proper  subjects  for  severe  measures,  even 
by  those  who  had  witnessed  Wallis's  heroism  in  the 
battle  front.  It  was  not  good  that  so  prominent  an 
officer  of  the  Army  of  the  Union  should  be  in  such 
frequent  communication  with  the  Army  of  Virginia — 
no  matter  what  the  object.  He  might  satisfy  Little 
Mac  and  his  chosen  few  of  friends  that  his  motives 

191 


192  A    BROKEN    SWORD. 

were  honorable,  and  that  no  correspondence  of  a  trea- 
sonable character  had  been  carried  on,  but  he  could 
not  so  easily  hoodwink  the  men  of  the  army,  where 
feeling  against  him  was  now  growing  hot  and  strong. 
This  last  episode  was  the  pound  that  broke  the 
camel's  back. 

Perhaps  he  saw  it  himself.  Perhaps  others  saw  it 
who  stood  sufficiently  near  to  the  commander  to  whis- 
per a  word  of  advice.  Certain  it  is  that  during  that 
flooded  fortnight  Wallis  was  seen  no  more  among  the 
camps  to  the  south  of  the  Chickahominy.  The  story 
had  gone  the  rounds  that  the  men  themselves  swore 
they'd  shoot  him  if  he  showed  along  the  picket  line. 
No  matter  how  brave  or  brilliant  a  fellow  might  be  in 
battle,  he  shouldn't  try  playing  a  double  game  with 
the  soldiers  of  Uncle  Sam. 

But  all  this  time  there  was  another  corps  in  a  widely 
separated  camp  to  the  north  of  the  Chickahominy, 
covering  the  low  ridges  beyond  Boatswain  and  Pow- 
hite  swamps,  and  forming  almost  an  independent  com- 
mand under  McClellan's  brilliant  friend  and  fellow- 
soldier,  Fitz  John  Porter.  It  was  an  odd  state  of 
things,  this  straddling  an  army  across  an  unfordable 
stream,  whose  bridges — those  that  had  stood  the  tests 
of  years,  like  Bottom's,  and  these  only  of  the  En- 
gineers— had  been  swept  away  and  floated  toward 
the  James.  So  thought  the  patient  President  at 
Washington  until,  under  the  spur  of  Stanton,  he  be- 
gan to  wax  impatient  and  speak.  But,  the  base  of 
supplies  being  at  the  time  at  the  White  House  on 


A    SUPREME    MOMENT.  193 

the  Pamunkey,  it  may  have  been  considered  necessary 
to  have  it  thus  covered;  and  then,  said  the  thousands 
of  stanch  upholders  of  the  commander,  no  matter 
what  the  loss  of  ''touch"  between  the  Fifth  Corps  and 
the  Army,  there  was  still  the  closest  understanding. 
This  was  comfort  even  though  the  bridges  of  Duane 
and  Woodbury — the  only  material  connecting  links — 
had  vanished,  and  the  breach,  consisting  of  broad 
acres  of  back  water  that  made  lakes  of  Powhite  and 
Boatswain  swamps,  had  more  than  visibly  widened. 
There  was  a  week  when  even  gossip  couldn't  pass 
'twixt  Porter's  Corps  and  that  of  Franklin,  its  next 
of  kin,  now  corduroyed  out  to  the  right  of  the  main 
line,  and  when  gossip  can't  travel,  official  matters  lag. 

Perhaps  this  was  why  it  was  not  generally  known 
that,  so  far  from  being  in  close  arrest  as  the  result 
of  the  dramatic  discovery  of  the  night  of  Fair  Oaks, 
Harold  Wallis  was  on  duty  with  Fitz  John  Porter. 
Even  the  discovery  of  a  packet  plainly  marked  "For 
Major  H.  Wallis,  U.  S.  A.,"  taken  warm  from  the 
breast  of  a  Confederate  prisoner  had  not  served  to 
stagger  him.  Silas  Casey,  soldier  and  gentleman,  had 
started  at  sound  of  the  announcement  made  by  the 
searching  officer;  had  stood  erect  and  looked  sternly 
and  scrutinizingly  at  Wallis,  as  the  suspicious  package 
was  handed  to  the  chief  of  the  division  staff,  who  in 
turn  had  faced  the  attainted  major,  as  who  would  say: 
"Explain  if  you  can,  but  remember  whatsoever  you 
say  may  be  used  against  you." 

Long  years  afterwards  they  used  to  tell  of  that  re- 


i94  A    BROKEN    SWORD. 

markable  scene — of  the  almost  deathlike  silence  that 
fell  on  the  entire  party  present,  broken  only  by  the 
sullen  roar  of  the  rain  on  the  taut-stretched  canvas 
roof — of  the  dim  flare  of  the  candle  light — of  the  pale, 
bearded  faces  and  glittering  eyes  of  the  few  officers 
present,  most  of  them  garbed  in  waterproof  coats  and 
cape  caps,  such  as  were  worn  at  the  time.  In  all  there 
were  within  earshot,  including  the  two  doctors  and 
the  half  drenched,  half  stunned  young  Confederate, 
perhaps  a  dozen  men,  and  all  looked  at  Wallis,  and  all, 
with  the  exception,  possibly,  of  the  prisoner,  were 
amazed  at  the  sang  froid — the  almost  contemptuous 
indifference — of  his  manner  on  finding  himself  thus 
suddenly  forced  to  the  "center  of  the  stage."  Noth- 
ing so  surely  seemed  to  put  Harold  Wallis  on  his 
mettle  as  some  public  and  dramatic  attempt  to  over- 
whelm him,  and  never  did  his  placid  composure  and 
his  superb  self-command  manifest  themselves  as  on 
this  memorable  occasion. 

"For  me?"  he  drawled.  "Ah — tobacco,  possibly. 
You  open  it — ah — captain,"  said  he,  addressing  the 
staff  officer;  then  deliberately  turned  his  back  upon 
the  group,  and  again,  as  though  the  episode  had  been 
a  mere  interruption — annoying,  perhaps,  like  a  mos- 
quito, but  as  easily  brushed  aside — addressed  himself 
to  the  division  commander,  "As  I  was  saying,  sir,  the 
lines  across  the  Richmond  road" — and  then  dropped 
his  voice  to  the  low  and  confidential  tone  in  which 
he  had  been  speaking,  while  the  chief  of  staff,  as  bid- 
den, was  slowly,  somewhat  reluctantly,  indeed  sul- 


A    SUPREME    MOMENT.  195 

lenly,  tugging  at  the  fastenings  in  the  midst  of  a 
silence  now  both  awkward  and  wondering.  Then, 
opening  the  package,  presently  he  spoke: 

'These  are  papers — letters  of  some  kind — appar- 
ently." 

And  Wallis  heard,  yet  with  unruffled  composure, 
finished  his  remarks  to  the  mystified  general  before 
permitting  himself  to  refer  to  the  interruption.  Even 
then  he  never  turned: — 

"Letters  of  any  kind,  manifestly,  are  things  I  can- 
not touch.  Seal  them  up,  captain,  and  send  them  to 
general  headquarters — or  anywhere  you  like.  Then, 
general,  I  shall  report  to  General  McClellan  that  I 
have  examined  the  position  and  find  it  as  you  say. 
Good-night,  sir.  Good-night  to  you — ah — gentle- 
men," and,  without  a  glance  at  the  prisoner,  even 
stifling  a  yawn  as  he  strode  forth  into  the  pelting 
night,  and  drawing  on  his  wet  gauntlets,  Wallis  passed 
them  by,  called  for  his  horse  and  rode  away  into  the 
darkness,  leaving  a  silent,  if  not  indeed,  a  defeated, 
party  behind. 

The  papers — some  soiled  letters  they  seemed  to  be 
— without  examination  were  rolled  up,  sealed  and, 
with  a  memorandum  of  the  facts  connected  with  their 
discovery,  had  been  duly  forwarded  to  the  headquar- 
ters of  the  commanding  general.  Possibly  their  com- 
ing was  by  that  time  expected.  At  all  events  they 
were  duly  receipted  for,  and  the  officer  bearing  them 
waited  in  vain  for  the  faintest  expression  of  opinion. 
Not  a  word  was  vouchsafed, 


196  A    BROKEN    SWORD. 

"The  peculiar  circumstances  under  which  these 
were  received/'  he  presently  remarked,  with  an  em- 
barrassed cough,  "rendered  it  necessary  in  the  opin- 
ion of  our — of  a  number  of  those  present,  that  they 
should  be  sealed  and  sent  to  General  McClellan  him- 
self." 

"They'll  get  there,"  shortly  said  the  aide-de-camp 
on  duty,  and  the  bearer  rode  away,  dissatisfied.  Some 
men  hate  to  see  a  sensation  spoiled,  and  this  was  bil- 
ious weather. 

But  what  cannot  be  accomplished  by  direct  means, 
under  a  republican  form  of  government,  may  be 
reached  in  other  ways,  and  ways  to  Washington  were 
far  more  numerous  than  to  the  right  wing  of  the 
army,  for  when  calumny  is  to  be  carried,  the  bridges 
are  never  down. 

So  passed  the  first  fortnight  in  June.  So  began  and 
progressed  the  second,  and,  whatever  might  be  doing 
along  the  Potomac,  all  seemed  quiet  here  at  the  front, 
where  the  skies  cleared,  the  roads  dried  and  life  again 
became  hopeful  and  joyous.  Little  Mac  had  been 
clamoring  for  reinforcements  without  getting  them, 
in  the  desired  number;  and  the  Army  of  Virginia,  now 
led  by  Robert  E.  Lee,  had  been  getting  reinforce- 
ments without  clamor.  Moreover,  more  were  on  the 
way  whose  coming  might  well  have  given  our  little 
leader  bitter  anxiety.  Cutting  loose  from  the  Shen- 
andoah  and  swinging  unopposed  clear  across  from  the 
Blue  Ridge  to  the  green-bowered  outskirts  of  Rich- 
mond, Stonewall  Jackson  came  with  his  famous  "foot 


A    SUPREME    MOMENT.  197 

cavalry"  and  prepared  to  creep  in  and  crush  that 
isolated  right  wing,  that  splendid  corps  of  Fitz  John 
Porter,  stationed  there  across  the  now  subsided 
stream.  Already  the  whisperings  of  deserters  and 
negroes  had  given  warning,  and,  with  the  finest  divi- 
sions, the  flower  of  McClellan's  Army  at  his  back, 
the  brilliant,  bright-eyed  soldier  changed  front  to 
meet  the  new  danger.  Jackson  might  "play  horse" 
with  such  fellows  as  we  then  had  in  the  Valley  and  in 
front  of  Washington,  smilingly  said  the  commander 
of  McClellan's  crack  corps,  but  what  can  he  do  with 
these? 

And  well  might  he  feel  implicit  confidence  as  he 
studied  the  splendid  line  facing  the  Cold  Harbors — 
old  and  new — and  encircling  his  headquarters  here  on 
the  pretty,  wooded  slopes  about  the  Adams  house, 
this  glorious  noontide  toward  the  close  of  June.  Off 
to  the  east,  the  right  of  his  line,  stood  the  stanch  regu- 
lars in  front -of  the  McGee  homestead.  Then,  in  semi- 
circle to  the  left,  through  the  leafy  woods,  along  the 
gun-dotted  curve  of  low  heights  lay  the  brigades  of 
Lovell,  Warren,  Griffin,  Martindale  and  Butterfield; 
with  Slocum  coming  in  reserve,  and  a  strange,  bat- 
tered angering  little  division,  grouped  about  their  rid- 
dled colors,  bivouacked  under  the  wing  of  the  line. 
These  last  were  the  men  of  McCall,  the  Pennsylvania 
Reserves — sent  to  McClellan,  in  answer  to  his  insist- 
ent plea,  from  the  far-away  corps  of  McDowell;  sta- 
tioned for  a  week  "watching  bridges"  far  up  the 
Chickahominy  to  the  west  of  Porter;  left  there  almost 


198  A    BROKEN    SWORD. 

by  themselves,  instead  of  being  welcomed,  as  it  were, 
within  the  lines;  and  there  they  were  hemmed  in, 
pounced  upon  and  pounded  heavily  by  concentrated 
thousands,  until  at  last  their  new  parent  sent  forth 
and  brought  them  within  the  lines.  But  the  Pennsyl- 
vanians  were  sore  over  such  treatment,  and  some  of 
them  showed  it.  They  had  gone  down  to  help  Mc- 
Clellan's  fellows,  and  McClellan's  fellows — or  rather 
McClellan — had  left  them  to  shift  almost  for  them- 
selves and  get  hammered  in  full  hearing  of  the  whole 
army.  Barring  the  well-grounded  disgust  of  these 
sturdy  but  mishandled  fellows,  there  was  enthusiastic 
devotion  in  Porter's  lines  to  McClellan  and  his  for- 
tunes. There  was  universal  hope  that  "Old  Jack" 
might  indeed  be  lurking  there  in  the  shady  groves  to 
the  north  and  northwest;  that  those  heavy  clouds  of 
dust,  seen  all  the  previous  day,  might  indeed  indicate 
his  presence,  ready  to  try  conclusions. 

And  down  in  the  level  bottom,  now  dry,  between 
the  left  bank  of  the  Chickahominy  and  the  swelling 
little  uplands  where  were  posted  Porter's  men,  there 
had  been  stationed  a  Spartan  band  of  troopers — Dick 
Rush's  picturesque  Lancers  and  a  handful  of  regulars. 
With  less  than  twenty  thousand  men,  all  told,  to  op- 
pose to  Old  Jack  and  his  comrades  of  unknown  num- 
bers, Porter  had  bidden  McClellan  adieu  the  night 
of  the  26th;  the  latter  bent  on  breaking  a  way  into 
Richmond,  whose  vesper  bells  could  be  heard  ere  the 
sun  went  down;  the  former  and  his  hearty  fellows 
singing:— 


A    SUPREME    MOMENT.  199 

"With  squadrons  square,  we'll  all  be  there 
To  meet  the  foe  in  the  morning." 

But  the  way  things  looked  at  sundown  on  the  26th 
and  the  same  hour  on  the  27th  had  had  the  effect, 
coupled  with  intermediate  incidents,  of  stopping  Mc- 
Clellan's  precipitous  move  on  Richmond.  Up  to  June 
26th  the  Army  of  the  Potomac,  drifted  round  here  to 
the  Peninsula,  had  steadily  advanced.  Now,  with  the 
sun,  it  began  to  slip  the  other  way.  Mechanicsville 
marked  the  summer  solstice  of  both,  and  Gaines's 
Mill,  as  is  called  the  battle  of  the  27th,  though  fought 
far  south,  and  quite  out  of  sight  of  that  once  useful 
structure,  marked  the  first  real  red  letter  day  of  the 
ultimately  Lost  Cause. 

It  had  its  brilliant  hours,  heaven  knows.  It  had  its 
record  of  splendid,  stubborn  fighting.  It  had  its  tem- 
porary triumphs,  and  it  was  not  without  its  helping 
hand,  for  Slocum  and  his  gallant  men  had  got  over  in 
time  to  take  manful  part  in  the  fight ;  but,  all  things 
said  and  done,  what  could  Porter  hope  to  do  against 
the  overwhelming  odds  hurled  upon  him  by  the  supe- 
rior generalship  of  Lee?  While  a  moderate  force  held 
McClellan  in  check,  both  A.  P.  Hill  and  Longstreet 
cut  loose  from  his  front,  and,  after  driving  McCall 
back  from  the  Beaver,  bore  down  early  on  the  hot 
June  afternoon  of  the  27th  in  an  assault  on  Porter's 
eager  line.  Then  Jackson  came  in  crushing  force  and 
engaged  the  entire  corps,  while  the  charging  columns, 
mass  on  mass,  were  dashed  upon  Morell  at  the  ex- 


200  A    BROKEN    SWORD. 

treme  left,  and  finally  burst  through.  Then  it  was, 
just  about  dusk,  that  a  brilliant,  possibly  forbidden, 
yet  by  no  means  futile  or  fruitless  effort,  was  made  to 
cover  the  withdrawal  of  the  threatened  guns — a 
charge  of  cavalry  that  was  devotion  itself. 

It  was  the  supreme  moment  of  the  day.  The  west- 
ward face  of  the  plateau,  deluged  by  shot  and  shell  from 
the  opposite  wood,  had  become  untenable.  Morell's 
long-suffering  infantry  had  begun  that  slow,  sullen,  yet 
utterly  uncheckable  backward  surge  that  left  the  bat- 
teries shorn  of  their  supports.  Already  in  some  of  these 
the  order  had  been  given  "limber  to  the  rear,"  and  such 
drivers  and  horses  as  remained  were  making  frantic 
effort  to  haul  the  hot  guns  from  the  clutch  of  the  coming 
foe.  Already  in  others  both  limbers  and  caissons  had 
been  run  back  out  of  the  storm  or  lay  crushed  and  dis- 
mantled among  the  mangled  bodies  of  the  horses ;  while 
the  half  blinded  cannoneers,  they  that  still  remained 
upon  their  feet,  some  with  rammers  and  hand-spikes, 
some  with  pouch  and  lanyard,  came  ducking  and  crouch- 
ing back  in  search  of  shelter.  Wounded  men  could  be 
seen  through  the  dust,  feebly  crawling  for  the  partial 
cover  to  be  found  between  the  wheels,  for  the  terrific 
yelling,  beyond  the  low-hanging  cloud  of  battle  smoke 
along  the  flats,  told  that  Longstreet's  fellows  were  com- 
ing in  force  to  claim  their  prize — to  complete  the  rout  of 
the  left  wing.  Rout  it  is,  there  is  no  other  word  for  it, 
despite  all  the  hard  fighting  of  the  day,  for  every  foot 
of  Porter's  convex  line  has  been  heavily  engaged,  and 
he  has  not  a  man  to  send  to  the  support  of  his  recoiling 


A    SUPREME    MOMENT.  201 

left.  Charge  after  charge  has  been  repulsed,  but  still 
the  human  waves  come  rolling  on.  At  the  far  right, 
toward  McGee's,  even  the  regulars  have  been  so  en- 
gulfed and  surrounded  that,  with  nearly  half  their 
officers  down  and  the  ammunition  of  their  batteries  ex- 
hausted, they  have  all  they  can  do  to  hold  their  own; 
and  Porter,  surrounded  by  his  anxious  staff  back  of 
the  Watts  house,  peering  through  the  drifting  smoke, 
sees  those  abandoned  guns  along  the  bluff;  sees  the 
backward  drift  of  their  bleeding  supports,  and,  even 
among  the  men  of  McCall,  held  for  a  time  in  reserve, 
even  among  the  freshest  troops  to  reach  the  scene — the 
"bear-a-hand"  brigade  of  Slocum — he  can  find  no  bat- 
talions stanch  and  strong  enough  to  dare  the  effort  to 
restore  that  westward  line.  With  him,  up  to  a  few 
moments  before,  were  de  Joinville  and  his  gallant 
nephews,  but  Frenchmen  have  seen  no  sight  like  this 
since  Waterloo;  and,  almost  in  tears,  the  young  count 
has  begged  of  Porter  that  he  send  his  uncle  from  the 
field.  It  takes  a  special  plea  to  do  it,  for  these  chivalric 
visitors,  having  shared  all  the  blithe  days  of  the  cam- 
paign, are  not  the  men  to  quit  in  the  moment  of  disaster. 
"You  have  the  swiftest  horse,  M.  le  Prince,"  says 
Porter.  "Gallop  with  all  speed  to  McClellan  and  say 
I  must  be  reinforced  at  once,"  and  Harold  Wallis  is  sent 
to  guide  him  toward  the  Woodbury  Bridge. 

Five  minutes  and  Wallis  is  back.  The  charging 
masses  in  gray  have  snapped  the  line  and  crowned  the 
bluffs  to  the  northwest,  beyond  the  Watts  house.  The 
reserve  batteries  down  at  the  left  and  far  to  the  rear  of 


202  A    BROKEN    SWORD. 

those  on  the  bluff  are  already  hurling  shell  and  shrapnel 
high  across  the  low  ground,  bursting  at  the  skirt  of 
the  opposite  wood.  Porter  and  his  staff  have  retired 
toward  the  Adams  houses,  and  a  tall,  silent,  soldierly 
man  in  the  uniform  of  a  general,  is  standing  in  his 
stirrups  and  gazing  out  toward  the  blazing  edge  of  the 
opposite  timber,  across  those  undefended  flats,  then 
turning  in  saddle  and  intently  studying  a  little  com- 
mand, just  back  of  the  reserve  batteries  along  the  south- 
ward slopes,  drawn  up  in  compact,  close  column  of 
squadrons — less  than  three  hundred  troopers  of  the 
Fifth  Regular  Cavalry,  with  their  comrades  of  the  First 
in  easy  supporting  distance.  There,  out  to  their  right 
front,  are  the  deserted  or  imperiled  cannon.  There, 
across  the  low  ground,  just  bursting  into  view  as  they 
break  through  the  timber,  are  the  blood  red  battle-flags 
of  the  triumphant  foe,  now  swooping  on  their  prey. 
Here  sit  in  saddle  the  only  men  with  ranks  aligned  in 
sight  upon  the  field,  the  only  possible  means  of  checking 
and  holding  the  enemy  long  enough  to  admit  of  running 
off  the  guns — these  disciplined,  yet  devil-may-care 
sabreurs  of  the  famous  old  frontier  regiment,  once  the 
pets  of  Jeff  Davis,  Lee  and  Sidney  Johnston,  yet  ever 
loyal  to  their  country's  flag.  Wallis  sees  the  whole 
scheme  in  the  soldierly  face  of  Philip  St.  George  Cooke. 
"By  the  gods  of  a  thousand  battles,"  he  grinds  the 
words  through  his  strong,  white  teeth,  "the  old  war 
horse  means  to  charge !" 


CHAPTER   XVI. 

THE    CHARGE    OF    THE    FIFTH. 

AND  charge  it  is !  Another  moment  has  decided  it. 
Riding  swiftly  down  to  the  left,  the  tall,  dark 
eyed  Chief  of  Cavalry  reins  up  in  front  of  the  silent 
band  in  saddle  and  hails  their  grim  commander,  Whit- 
ing. It  is  another  of  the  same  name  who  heads  the 
gray  masses  that  have  burst  a  way  through  the  ranks 
of  Morell.  Few  words  says  Cooke,  but  they  tell  the 
tale : — "We  have  got  to  save  those  guns  if  possible.  It 
looks  like  a  whole  division  coming  at  'em.  Charge  and 
stop  them!" 

When,  less  than  a  year  later,  Pleasonton  sends  in 
Keenan  with  his  Pennsylvanians,  in  column  of  fours 
along  a  narrow  road,  dashing  to  certain  death  in  the 
effort  to  check  the  enemy  until  the  Union  leader  can 
align  his  guns,  the  order  is  lauded  as  timely  and  right, 
though  a  charge  by  fours  is  something  absurd.  When 
von  Bredow  at  Mars  la  Tour  launches  his  light  brigade 
of  horse  against  overwhelming  masses  of  infantry, 
simply  to  check  and  hold  the  surging  French  until  the 
German  foot  can  unite  to  bar  the  Chalons  road,  the 
soldiery  of  a  watching  world  acclaim.  It  is  bold,  bril- 
liant, superb,  though  it  cost  him  half  his  men.  But, 

203 


204  A    BROKEN    SWORD. 

when  in  1862  the  foremost  Union  cavalry  leader  of  his 
day  dares  to  send  in  his  squadrons  in  genuine  charging 
form,  full  front,  at  the  Confederate  infantry  emerging 
in  triumphant  disorder  from  sheltering  woods,  hoping 
thereby  to  stem  and  hold  them,  even  at  bloody  cost, 
until  others  can  save  the  then  abandoned  guns,  he  is 
hounded  as  a  dolt,  held  to  blame  for  disaster  he  had 
done  his  best  to  avert,  and  accused  of  quitting  sum- 
marily the  field  he  was  the  very  last  to  leave,  and  all 
this  by  the  commander  'whom  he  was  most  loyally 
serving.  Though  he  sees  his  devoted  squadrons  dart 
in  with  flashing  blade  and  ringing  cheers,  vanishing  in 
the  thick  cloud  of  their  own  dust ;  though  he  hears  the 
terrific  crash  of  their  impact  as  their  long  line  bursts 
upon  the  astonished  foe;  though  he  knows  the  advance 
is  checked  and  stayed — that  even  Longstreet  has  to 
halt  and  stand  off  these  slashing,  shouting  horsemen — 
yet  is  he  powerless  to  order  the  men  of  Morell  to  rush 
to  the  rescue  of  the  guns.  All  in  a  fury  of  dust  and 
smoke,  gallant  Chambliss  at  its  head,  the  Fifth  has  been 
swallowed  up  in  front  of  these  black-muzzled  boomers, 
the  plain  in  the  rear  of  the  rush  dotted  with  ma/iy  a 
fallen  steed  and  swordsman.  But  it  looks  as  though  the 
heroic  effort  that  cost  the  gallant  corps  full  half  its 
number,  might  indeed  be  fruitless,  when  Harold  Wallis 
comes  spurring  forward,  a  dozen  determined  gunners 
at  his  charger's  heels.  Riding  thither  and  yon  among 
the  crippled  teams  and  scare-faced  drivers,  he  half 
storms,  half  coaxes  them,  man  after  man,  to  turn  again 
in  their  tracks  and  sends  them,  with  still  unwhipped 


THE    CHARGE    OF   THE    FIFTH.       205 

subalterns  and  sergeants,  to  tackle  the  guns  as  best  they 
may  and  drag  them  to  shelter  below  the  hill. 

The  sun  is  down  in  the  west.  The  roar  and  crash  of 
battle  go  billowing  through  the  wooded  slopes.  The 
wounded  in  streams  are  hobbling  back  to  the  rear.  Am- 
bulances and  wagons,  limbers  and  caissons,  in  crowding, 
crushing  torrent,  are  struggling  through  the  roadways 
toward  the  bridges.  The  din  of  the  charge  has  died 
away  and,  singly  or  in  little  squads,  the  survivors  come 
drifting  in  to  the  batteries,  and,  finding  no  officer  on 
whom  to  rally  and  reform,  bear  a  hand  at  the  guns 
wherever  help  is  needed.  Only  one  lieutenant  rides 
back  from  that  wild,  magnificent  dash  unscathed.  His 
brother  officers  are  either  killed  or  crippled;  but,  for 
the  time  at  least,  their  sacrifice  is  not  in  vain;  for, 
in  amaze,  the  coming  hosts  of  Longstreet  are  held  in 
mid  career,  and  but  for  the  semi-panic  that  reigns 
among  Porter's  bewildered  batterymen,  more — many 
more — of  the  guns  might  have  been  dragged  to  safety. 
But  now,  once  again  and  this  time  for  good  and  all, 
the  red  battle-flags  of  Longstreet's  yelling  lines  are  wav- 
ing onward  through  the  drifting  smoke,  and  popping 
up  here,  there  and  everywhere  along  the  bluffs  north  of 
Boatswain's  Swamp,  and  now  in  turn  the  reserve  bat- 
teries are  catching  the  heavy,  plunging  rifle  fire  that 
beats  down  the  men  at  the  guns  and  sends  the  terrified 
horses  screaming  and  kicking  to  earth,  or  scurrying 
away  for  shelter.  And  still  Wallis  labors  on,  a  word 
here,  a  hand  there,  calm,  placid,  undismayed,  yet  at 
times  blazing  with  sudden  and  unnatural  enthusiasm  as 


206  A   BROKEN    SWORD. 

he  notes  and  praises  some  gallant  deed.  Soldierly  met. 
there  are  among  the  infantry  leaders,  supervising  and 
steadying  the  slow  withdrawal  of  their  lines,  who  have 
abundant  cause  to  mark  his  daring  and  devoted  work 
and  commend  it  then  and  thereafter — soldierly  men  like 
Meade,  Griffin  and  John  F.  Reynolds — men  who  know 
him  well  by  repute,  and  are  hardly  prepared  for  the 
cool  heroism,  coupled  at  times  with  fiery  energy,  that 
enables  him  even  in  the  midst  of  the  ever  increasing 
force  of  the  plunging  fire,  to  hold  his  fellows  at  their 
work,  and  to  bring  off,  one  after  another,  half  a  dozen 
guns  almost  from  the  teeth  of  the  foe. 

"Bravo,  Wallis,  old  boy!"  "Well  done,  Wallis!" 
come  the  encomiums  from  bearded  lips,  as  more  than 
one  general  hails  him  on  the  field.  "Bravo,  Wallis!" 
cries  a  wounded  officer,  borne  by  on  a  stretcher,  "What 
wouldn't  the  Spoons  have  given  to  have  you  at  their 
head  this  day !"  Spoons,  indeed !  He  has  hardly  had 
time  to  give  them  a  thought.  Yet,  only  a  few  hours 
before  the  attack  began,  they  had  come  swinging  up  the 
road  from  White  House,  honest  Michael  in  saddle  in 
the  lead ;  had  reported  to  Sykes  at  the  far  right  flank,  and 
taken  their  station  in  line  of  battle  within  supporting 
distance  of  the  guns  of  Weed.  Not  since  the  days  of 
Greble  Barracks  had  they  met  and,  in  the  meantime, 
what  tales  have  not  been  told — both  good  and  ill.  And 
now,  just  as  darkness  is  settling  down,  with  the  dust 
cloud  of  the  charge,  upon  this  field  of  death  and  dismay, 
and  in  long,  blue  columns,  the  infantry,  covered  by  the 
deploying  lines  of  fresh  brigades,  sent  from  the  south- 


THE    CHARGE    OF    THE    FIFTH.       207 

r  ern  shore,  are  twisting  away  toward  the  swirling  Chick- 
ahominy,  leaving  the  crest  with  a  score  of  abandoned 
guns  to  the  yelling  and  triumphant  foe,  a  rifle  ball  tears 
through  the  shoulder  of  his  frantic  horse,  and  Harold 
Wallis,  debonair  and  dashing  rider  that  he  is,  taken 
suddenly  unawares  is  hurled  by  furious  plungings  from 
his  saddle  under  the  very  wheels  of  an  ambulance,  deep 
laden  with  wounded,  and  one  heavy  tire  tears  partially 
away  the  major's  "rectangle"  of  the  right  shoulder  ere 
it  grinds  the  shapely  neck  into  the  thick  dust  of  the 
roadway.  "Good  night  to  Marmion !" 

And  all  this  while,  holding  a  long,  thin,  shadowy, 
sham  of  a  line,  north  and  south  in  front  of  the  masked 
brigades  of  the  Army  of  the  Potomac,  one  sorely  tried, 
hopeful  and,  for  this  day  anyhow,  prayerful  soldier 
guards  the  approaches  to  Richmond,  marveling  that  Mc- 
Clellan  does  not  seem  to  realize  that  now,  now  is  the 
chance  of  a  lifetime;  that  now,  with  Hill  and  Long- 
street  detached  to  aid  Jackson  in  the  plan  to  crush  and 
ruin  Porter,  there  is  barely  force  enough  left  between 
the  Confederate  capital  and  the  threatening  advance  to 
withstand  the  onslaught  of  a  strong  division,  and  strong 
divisions  stand  idle  all  the  day  long,  after  the  unique 
McClellan  manner.  "Baldy"  Smith,  Richardson  and 
Sedgwick,  Kearny  and  Hooker,  Couch  and  Peck,  all 
under  such  corps  leaders  as  Franklin,  Sumner,  Heintzel- 
man  and  Keyes,  all  listening  and  waiting  throughout 
the  livelong  day,  all  doing  absolutely  nothing,  while  Lee 
has  dared  to  strip  his  lines  to  effectively  ruin  the  Union 
right,  leaving  our  old  friend,  and  Harold's,  Prince  John 


208  A    BROKEN    SWORD. 

Magruder,  to  the  sleepless  task  of  watching  McClellan 
and  most  effectively  has  he  done  it.  Most  scientifically 
has  he  kept  his  battalions  twinkling  from  pillar  to  post, 
with  much  show  of  bold  challenge,  from  dawn  till  dusk, 
"bluffing"  McClellan  into  the  belief  that  he  has  thou- 
sands at  his  beck,  where  he  hasn't  a  baker's  dozen.  It 
isn't  the  first  game  of  brag  the  veteran  entertainer  has 
played,  but  he  never  played  it  better  in  all  his  checkered 
life.  With  Richmond  within  easy  reach  beyond  that 
flimsy  veil,  McClellan  dare  not  stretch  forth  a  hand  to 
pluck  the  rich  fruit  of  all  this  loyal  labor.  He  does  not 
know  the  game  of  which  Magruder  is  past  master. 

Something  like  a  fortnight  later,  in  company  with  a 
number  of  maimed  and  wounded  officers,  Harold  Wallis 
found  himself  disembarked  at  Washington.  His  physi- 
cal hurts  were  practically  healed.  He  bore  with  him  in 
writing  the  glowing  thanks  and  commendations  of  the 
commanding  general,  and  letters  of  similar  tenor  from 
others  high  in  authority  who  had  won  distinction  even 
in  that  ill-starred  campaign.  He  had  left  his  general 
on  the  James,  the  Army  entrenched  in  safety  at  Harri- 
son's Landing,  and  with  a  two  weeks'  leave  for  the 
benefit  of  his  health,  and  a  packet  of  valuable  and  im- 
portant letters  which  he  desired  to  take  to  New  York, 
and  the  urgent  invitation  of  the  governor  of  a  grand  old 
commonwealth  to  accept  the  command  of  a  new  regi- 
ment of  cavalry  then  being  raised,  the  major  sought  at 
Willard's  certain  senatorial  friends  of  the  halcyon  days 
of  the  Silver  Spoons,  hoping  through  their  influence  to 
overcome  the  old  obstacles  at  the  War  Department,  and, 


THE    CHARGE    OF   THE    FIFTH.       209 

through  the  prestige  of  his  brilliant,  soldierly  conduct 
at  Williamsburg  and  Gaines's  Mill,  wring  even  from  the 
reluctant  Secretary  the  desired  authority  to  enable  him 
to  accept  the  proffered  colonelcy  of  volunteers.  He  was 
in  high  hope  and  spirits.  He  breakfasted  with  a  senator 
of  the  Empire  State,  showing  him  his  glowing  recom- 
mendations and  giving  him  such  vivid  description  of 
the  campaign  that  the  senator  sent  for  certain  cronies 
to  come  and  hear ;  and,  at  ten  o'clock  of  this  warm  July 
morning,  Wallis  found  himself  the  center  of  a  circle  of 
absorbed  listeners  in  a  parlor  room  on  the  second  floor, 
a  circle  made  up  of  men  of  mark  and  distinction — four 
of  them  senators  prominent  in  the  affairs  of  the  nation. 
Small  wonder  was  it,  therefore,  that  he  gave  little 
thought  to  the  possibility  of  a  fuming  Secretary  over 
at  the  "Shop"  on  Seventeenth  Street  until  somewhere 
after  eleven,  when  the  door  opened,  and,  instead  of  the 
frequently-summoned  bell  boy,  a  man's  face,  a  white 
face,  bearded,  looked  calmly  in  and  round  and  vanished 
without  a  word  of  explanation. 

"That's  what  I  call  cool,"  said  Senator  Number  One. 

"That's  what  I  call  impudent,"  said  Senator  Number 
Two. 

"That's  that  fellow  Carmichael,  of  the  Secret  Ser- 
vice," said  Senator  Number  Three.  "Now,  what  the 
devil  is  he  speiring  about  here  for?" 

They  found  out  less  than  an  hour  later,  when,  very 
confidently  and  jovially,  the  committee  rose  and  re- 
ported itself  ready  to  go  over  and  see  Stanton  and  have 
the  major's  matter  fixed.  No  one  of  their  number 


210  .A    BROKEN    SWORD. 

doubted  his  individual  ability  to  "fix"  it  on  sight,  but 
then  it  was  better  to  have  a  party.  Then,  despite  the 
hour  and  the  heat  of  the  day,  somebody  suggested  just 
one  round  of  champagne  to  drink  the  health  and  wish 
long  life  and  speedy  promotion  of  Colonel  Harold 
Wallis  of  the  — th  Massachusetts  Volunteer  Cavalry, 
the  pride  of  the  commonwealth,  and  glasses  were 
actually  raised  on  high  when  there  came  a  sharp,  im- 
perative knock  at  the  door  and  the  entrance  of  an  officer 
in  complete  uniform;  belt,  sash,  sword  and  gauntlets 
added  to  the  frock  of  a  field  officer  of  the  staff. 

"Your  pardon,  gentlemen,"  he  briefly  spoke,  "but  my 
orders  are  imperative.  Major  Wallis,  I  am  directed  to 
place  you  in  close  arrest  on  charges  of  disloyal  and  trea- 
sonable conduct.  By  order  of  the  Secretary  of  War." 


CHAPTER   XVII. 

TRASH    OR   TREASON? 

AUGUST,  1862,  was  a  month  of  many  worries  for 
the  War  Department.  The  campaign  on  the 
Peninsula  had  proved  a  woeful  failure,  and  the  idol  of 
the  Army  of  the  Potomac  was  in  a  wordy  wrangle  with 
the  Iron  Secretary.  Lee's  heroic  divisions,  however, 
had  been  fearfully  repulsed  before  the  belching  guns  at 
Malvern  Hill,  and  again  such  fighters  as  Phil  Kearny 
had  declared  the  road  to  Richmond  practically  open  if 
only  Little  Mac  could  be  made  to  see  it  and  to  say  the 
word  "go  in."  But  that  was  hopeless.  McClellan 
seemed  to  have  no  stomach  left  for  righting,  save  with 
Stanton.  So,  while  his  still  loyal  and  valiant  men  re- 
stored their  lines  and  set  their  sights  for  battle,  the 
commander  spent  the  precious  hours  writing  pages  of 
complaint  and  recrimination  to  Washington,  and  Stone- 
wall Jackson,  taking  prompt  advantage  of  the  paralysis 
on  the  Peninsula,  cut  loose  again  to  try  conclusions  with 
the  new  general  come  out  from  the  West  to  command 
the  hurriedly  organized  army  in  front  of  the  national 
capital ;  pounced  upon  its  foremost  corps  at  Cedar 
Mountain,  and  then  followed  up  his  blow  by  a  series  of 
mad  manoeuvres  that  would  have  startled  even  Charles 
of  Sweden;  that  scared  the  cabinet  out  of  its  seven 


212  A    BROKEN    SWORD. 

senses  (they  had  no  more  at  the  time — the  Department 
of  Agriculture  being  a  recent  invention),  and  so  be- 
deviled the  headquarters  in  saddle  that  even  memory 
could  no  longer  keep  her  seat,  and,  in  the  distracted 
globe  of  the  commander,  fact  and  fiction  became  inex- 
tricably mixed. 

And  through  all  this  month  of  military  mishap, 
Harold  Wallis  was  held  in  Washington,  vainly  begging 
for  a  hearing.  General  court-martial  had  indeed  been 
ordered  to  try  the  case  and  the  order  had  gone  as  far 
as  the  words,  "Detail  for  the  Court,"  and  the  Honorable 
Secretary  had  been  in  consultation  with  the  Adjutant 
General  over  the  choice  of  officers.  But  regular  officers 
of  sufficient  rank,  not  generals  of  volunteers,  were  get- 
ting scarce  about  Washington,  save  those  recuperating 
from  wounds,  and  it  was  far  too  soon,  said  the  surgeons, 
for  all  but  a  limited  few  of  these  to  attempt  to  sit  for 
hours  in  the  August  heat  and  the  tight  buttoned  coat 
then  demanded  by  regulations,  whether  the  luckless 
wearer  was  serving  on  the  shores  of  Pass  a  1'Outre  or 
Passamaquoddy.  Regulars  could  not  try  volunteers, 
but  Stanton  saw  no  reason  why  volunteers  should  not 
try  regulars,  and  was  for  ordering  a  court  of  strongly 
loyal  soldier  lawyers,  of  whom  there  was  ever  an  abun- 
dance at  Willard's  and  the  National.  But  certain  sen- 
ators had  taken  up  the  cudgels  for  Wallis,  all  men 
of  mark  and  influence.  A  very  distinguished  jurist 
from  the  neighboring  city  of  Baltimore  had  been  re- 
tained as  counsel,  and  the  Judge  Advocate  General  of 
the  Army  himself  saw  fit  to  say  to  the  great  Secretary 


TRASH    OR    TREASON?  213 

that  even  in  the  case  of  a  man  who  was  known  to  have 
been  in  correspondence  with  rebels  in  arms,  in  con- 
ference with  Confederate  officers  between  the  lines,  who 
had  a  brother  in  the  Confederate  service,  and  kindred 
in  several  of  these  States  in  rebellion,  a  man  who  was 
known  to  have  derided  the  administration  and  damned 
the  Star  Spangled  Banner,  it  was  best  to  be  sure  of 
every  inch  of  the  ground.  All  this  might  be  explained ; 
and  there  was,  on  the  other  hand,  one  thing  that  could 
not  be — how  a  man,  at  heart  disloyal  to  the  flag,  could 
fight  so  superbly  for  it  as  had  Harold  Wallis  at 
Williamsburg  and  Gaines's  Mill. 

In  the  midst  of  it  all  and  just  before  the  forty  days 
had  expired  beyond  which,  except  in  defiance  of  law,  an 
officer  could  not  be  held  in  arrest  without  being  served 
with  a  copy  of  the  charges  laid  at  his  door,  there  was 
brought  back  to  Washington,  shot  through  the  leg  and 
still  on  crutches,  Colonel  Bernard  Hoyt,  of  the  New 
York  Cavalry.  He  took  a  room  at  Willard's,  and  in 
less  than  forty-eight  hours  thereafter,  though  the  hotel 
was  crowded,  there  came  from  Gotham  Mrs.  Ruther- 
ford, daughter  and  maid,  and  Mrs.  Rutherford  de- 
manded accommodations  at  any  price.  The  physician 
called  to  see  her  the  evening  of  her  arrival — the  same 
who  had  attended  her  occasionally  during  her  previous 
visit — was  startled  to  see  that  during  these  few  months 
her  strange  and  mysterious  malady  had  made  grave 
inroads  on  her  strength.  Without  a  symptom  that 
pointed  to  organic  trouble  or  even  to  a  seriously  weak- 
ened heart,  Mrs.  Rutherford  was  manifestly  in  wretched 


2i4  A   BROKEN    SWORD. 

health  and  spirits.  She  begged  that  Colonel  Hoyt 
would  come  to  her  at  once,  the  evening  of  her  arrival ; 
sent  Hortense  out  for  a  walk,  a  ride, — anything  to  get 
her  out  of  the  way  for  half  an  hour ;  bade  her  anxious 
daughter  to  withdraw  on  the  colonel's  coming,  that  she 
might  see  him  alone,  and  Hoyt,  who  hobbled  from  his 
room,  buoyed  up  by  the  hope  of  a  look  into  the  face,  he 
loved  and  a  few  words  from  Ethel's  lips,  saw  her  vanish, 
pale  and  shadowy,  into  an  adjoining  room,  as  Mrs. 
Rutherford,  with  difficulty,  rose  from  the  sofa  to  receive 
him.  Ten  minutes  later  the  bell  rang  violently,  and 
the  answering  boy  found  both  the  colonel  and  Miss 
Rutherford  bending  over  a  limp  and  unconscious  form 
— Mrs.  Rutherford  had  fainted  away.  The  doctor  was 
needed  at  once. 

Two  days  later,  when  again  able  to  sit  up,  Mrs.  Ruth- 
erford had  told  her  daughter  that  come  what  might, 
she  must  that  day  see  Major  Harold  Wallis.  On  that 
same  morning,  despite  his  crippled  condition,  Colonel 
Hoyt  had  been  driven  to  the  War  Department,  whither 
he  went  to  beg  the  Adjutant  General  that  Lieutenant 
Gerald  Rutherford,  adjutant  of  the  — th  New  York 
Cavalry,  be  summoned  forthwith  from  the  front  be- 
cause of  his  mother's  serious  illness.  Ethel,  bursting 
into  tears  as  she  greeted  her  wounded  knight,  far  more 
concerned  over  her  distress  than  his  own  suffering,  had 
lifted  up  her  streaming  eyes  to  gaze  one  moment  im- 
ploringly into  his  handsome,,  almost  speaking,  face,  then 
veiled  them  at  sight  of  the  unutterable  love  and  passion 
and  pleading  that  glowed  in  every  line.  She  could  only 


TRASH    OR    TREASON?  215 

falter  her  prayer  that  he,  their  best,  their  only  real 
friend,  should  bring  her  brother  to  them,  even  though 
the  regiment  were  facing  Stuart  along  the  Rappahan- 
nock,  and  Hoyt  had  gone  to  do  his  best.  Heavens! 
How  he  longed  to  clasp  her  in  his  strong  arms,  to  kiss 
away  her  tears,  to  pour  out  the  story  of  his  deep,  de- 
voted, passionate  love,  to  woo  and  win  her  ere  again 
he  rode  at  the  head  of  his  men !  But,  just  as  before,  the 
dread  overcame  him  that  it  was  taking  mean  advantage 
of  her  helplessness,  her  bitter  anxiety  and  distress,  and 
so,  soldierlike,  manlike  in  his  stubborn  pride  and  sense 
of  honor,  he  robbed  her  of  what,  had  he  but  dared  to 
dream  it,  would  have  been  the  sweetest  strength  and 
comfort  she  could  have  found.  He  had  gone  from  her 
without  a  word,  his  hands,  his  lips  still  quivering, 
trembling,  twitching  in  the  tempest  of  their  longing 
to  lavish  their  caresses  on  her.  He  was  tremulous  still 
when  he  stood  before  the  desk  of  the  Adjutant  General 
and  made  his  plea.  "You  will  have  to  see  the  Secre- 
tary," was  the  non-committal  and  discouraging  answer, 
and  after  hours  of  waiting  at  last  they  let  him  in. 

Stanton  was  pacing  the  floor,  lacking  only  a  lashing 
tail  to  complete  the  semblance  to  the  caged  lion — there 
was  no  lack  of  lashing  tongue.  Three  officers  were  in 
the  room  at  the  moment  of  Hoyt's  entrance,  and  each 
one  looked  as  though  he  would  far  rather  be  out.  Be- 
fore the  newcomer  could  balance  on  his  crutches  and 
raise  a  hand  to  salute  the  civilian  head  of  the  nation's 
•soldiery,  Stanton  whirled  on  him : 

'"Now,  here's  another,  I  suppose!    You  are  the  man 


216  A    BROKEN    SWORD. 

who  preferred  charges  against  Captain  Harold  Wallis 
months  ago  for  conduct  unbecoming  an  officer  and  a 
gentleman.  You  accused  him  of  robbing  a  woman's 
desk.  Here  are  the  men  in  whom  I  relied  to  prove 
him  a  rebel  and  a  traitor.  This  man  swore  he  heard 
him  say  'damn  the  Star  Spangled  Banner/  and  now 
he  crawfishes  and  says  he  only  meant  the  tune,  not 

the  flag.     This  man "  and  here  the  irate  lawyer 

whirled,  as  though  he  had  him  on  the  stand,  on  the 
second  officer,  and,  such  was  his  towering  rage,  well 
nigh  shook  his  fist  in  his  face — "this  man  declared 
he  saw  him  twice  in  front  of  our  lines  at  Lee's  Mills, 
talking  with  rebels  at  night,  and  now  he  says  the 
rebels  might  have  been  one  of  our  own  patrols.  This 
man,"  and  with  threatening  forefinger  and  lowering 
front,  like  a  charging  bull,  Stanton  turned  on  the 
third  soldier,  a  trusted  staff  officer  of  the  cavalry 
commander  on  the  Peninsula,  a  man  well  known  to 
Hoyt  by  reputation,  the  very  one  who  had  warned 
Harold  Wallis  while  they  lay  in  front  of  the  Warwick, 
"this  man,"  said  Stanton,  "who  knew  him  at  West 
Point  and  out  on  the  plains,  and  again  on  the  Penin- 
sula— who  knows  his  Southern  proclivities,  and  has 
heard  his  sneers  at  McClellan's  headquarters  time  and 
again,  dares  to  come  here  and  say  that  in  spite  of  his 
sneers,  in  spite  of  his  infamous  traffic  with  rebels  at 
the  front  and  rebel  sneaks  at  the  rear,  in  spite  of  these 
letters  picked  up  at  Magruder's  abandoned  headquar- 
ters," and  here  the  Secretary  hammered  on  a  little 
batch  of  papers  on  his  broad  desk,  "in  spite  of  the  let- 


TRASH    OR    TREASON?  217 

ters  found  on  a  rebel  prisoner  that  that  weakling, 
Couch,  should  have  sent  to  me — not  to  McClellan, 
whom  a  child  could  hoodwink,  for  now  we've  lost 
them — this  brother  graduate  of  your  Southern- 
steered  Military  Academy  has  the  face  to  come  here 
and  say  Harold  Wallis  is  a  loyal  man  because,  because, 
forsooth,  he's  a  brave  one !" 

"Your  pardon,  Mr.  Secretary,"  interposed  the  third 
officer,  his  face  pale  with  mingled  wrath  and  the  strain 
of  enforced  subordination,  "I  came  here  because  or- 
dered, not  because  I  wished.  I  spoke  because  you 
demanded,  not  because  I  desired.  You  showed  me 
the  Magruder  letters  and  required  my  opinion,  and 
I  gave  it.  He  had  no  business  writing  to  Magruder, 
but  what  he  wrote  was  trash,  not  treason,"  and  now 
it  was  evident  that  one,  at  least,  of  Stanton's  three 
victims  could  hit  back,  and  meant  to  do  it.  Stanton 
stopped  short;  faced  him,  and  simply  glared  for  a  mo- 
ment as  though  amazed  at  such  hardihood. 

"You're  a  lawyer,  sir,"  went  on  the  West  Pointer, 
rising  to  his  full  height  of  six  feet,  and  speaking  with 
flashing  eyes  and  ringing  emphasis.  "What  can  you 
possibly  find  in  these  two  notes  that  deserves  serious 
consideration? — 'Dear  Bankhead.  Make  it  a  dozen. 
Dry  Sillery  or  else  Clicquot.  Damn  Green  Seal.' 
'Dear  Bankhead.  Two  bullets  and  a  bragger,  nothing 
else.'  " 

"What  may  they  not  mean?"  burst  in  Stanton,  his 
hands  clinching,  the  veins  in  his  forehead  swelling 
almost  to  bursting.  "The  second  is  full  of  significance. 


218  A    BROKEN    SWORD. 

I  credit  Major  Wallis  with  brains  enough  not  to  write 
words  that  would  hang  him  when  he  can  convey  his 
meaning  in  cipher  or  symbols.  You  are  trifling  with 
the  subject,  sir." 

"So  far  as  these  letters  are  concerned,"  responded 
the  soldier,  gaining  in  calm  as  the  Secretary  lost  in 
temper,  "the  subject  trifles  with  itself.  That  second 
missive  is  merely  the  language  of  an  old-time  game 
that  is  fast  giving  place  to  draAV  poker.  That  letter 
has  only  one  parallel  in  fiction  or  history — that  /  ever 
read." 

"What  was  that?"  demanded  Stanton,  with  chal- 
lenge in  his  blazing  spectacles. 

"Bardell  vs.  Pickwick,  Mr.  Secretary.  'Dear  Mrs. 
Bardell.  Chops  and  Tomato  Sauce' " 

"Captain  Reins!"  thundered  Stanton.  "Leave  the 
room!" 

"Mr.  Secretary,"  was  the  reply,  "I  obey  with  pleas- 
ure," and  Wallis  himself  could  hardly  have  answered 
with  greater  suavity.  Indeed,  the  captain  well  nigh 
winked  at  Hoyt,  poised  in  constraint  and  embarrass- 
ment on  his  crutches,  as  he  calmly  strode  away. 
There  was  no  responsive  light,  however,  in  the  blue 
eyes  of  the  cavalryman.  To  Bernard  Hoyt  the  story 
of  all  Wallis's  misdoings  on  the  Peninsula  was  but 
the  logical  sequence  of  the  reports  he  himself  had 
lodged  against  him.  Hoyt  believed  long  years  before 
that  Wallis  lacked  principle,  and  proved  it,  as  he 
claimed,  at  the  Planters'  months  before  the  war. 
Hoyt  believed  in  '6-1  that  by  foul  means  Wallis  had 


TRASH    OR   TREASON?  219 

\ 

possessed  himself  of  papers  Mrs.  Rutherford  held 
sacred,  and  thought  a  court-martial  would  establish 
it.  Hoyt  believed  that  Wallis  had  not  only  taken  the 
letters  lost  from  Ethel's  silken  bag,  but  the  others 
ravished  from  her  mother's  desk,  and  though  he  could 
not  imagine  their  purport,  he  well  knew  that  they  con- 
cerned or  were  written  by  his  old  friend  Ralph — the 
buried  son  and  brother.  Indeed,  in  addition  to  Ethel's 
admission  to  him,  the  venerable  rector  of  Grace  had 
told  the  Leroys  and  others  of  his  parishioners  that  he 
had  an  appointment  to  meet  Mrs.  Rutherford  in  the 
vestryroom  immediately  after  service  the  oppressive 
April  morning  she  was  taken  ill.  She  had  some  letters 
of  Ralph's,  she  said,  to  show  him.  These,  doubtless, 
had  been  confided  to  Ethel's  care,  and  though  the  bag 
had  been  restored  to  its  fair  owner,  the  letters  had 
disappeared.  Hoyt  well  remembered  the  mother's 
dreadful  agitation  at  the  discovery  that  the  desk  had 
been  rifled.  He  was  marveling  now  over  her  collapse 
the  previous  night.  He  had  been  with  her  but  a  few 
moments  after  Ethel  flitted  from  the  room,  when  Mrs. 
Rutherford  turned  upon  him,  with  eyes  full  of  anguish, 
and  in  a  voice  that  trembled  in  spite  of  her  utmost 
effort,  said:  "You  have  been  my  Gerald's  best  and 
most  faithful  friend;  you  were  the  beloved  and  de- 
voted friend  of  my  murdered  boy;  you  have  grown  to 
be  as  near  to  me  and  to — to  mine  as  you  were  to  him 
— to  Ralph — as  you  are  to  Gerald,  and,  oh,  Colonel 
Hoyt,  I  need  a  friend — I  sorely  need  a  friend.  There 
are  things  I  cannot  tell  you  yet.  There  is  something 


220  A   BROKEN    SWORD. 

/ 

I  must  ask  you.  They  say  Major  Wallis  is  to  be  tried 
on  several  charges,  but  he  declares  they  are  friv- 
olous. Major  Seabrook  writes  me  they  cannot  be 
sustained.  General  McClellan  and  General  Porter 
are  his  stanch  supporters,  and  Mr.  Webb,  who  was  at 
the  Island,  told  my  lawyers — they  wrote  to  him  at 
my  request — that  these  charges  would  not  be  suf- 
ficient to  seriously  harm  him.  All  they  could  do 
would  be  to  censure  him  for  indiscretion.  The  trouble 
is  this:  They  say  the  Secretary  is  so  determined  to 
punish  him  that  he  has  revived  that  old  story  about — 
about  certain  letters  of  ours,  even  though  Mr.  Cam- 
eron, his  predecessor,  examined  thoroughly  into  the 
matter  and  ordered  Major  Wallis  released.  They  say 
no  great  harm  can  come  to  him,  unless — unless  you 
testify,  and  Mr. — Mr.  Barclay.  Mr.  Barclay  is  a 
prisoner  in  Libby.  You  are  the  only  one.  Colonel — 
Colonel  Hoyt,  if  I  should  tell  you  that  Major  Wallis 
had  really  striven  to  defend  my  poor  boy,  had  really 
tried  to  serve  him,  had  really  tried  to  be  my  friend, 
you  wouldn't — you  could  not  seek  to  injure  him?" 

"Mrs.  Rutherford,"  answered  Hoyt,  gravely,  sadly, 
"I  believe  you  cannot  realize  how  dishonorable  a  man 
I  consider  Major  Wallis.  If  I  am  summoned  to  speak 
before  the  court  I  must  tell  the  whole  truth,  and  you 
too,  and  it  will  ruin  him — as  it  should  do." 

It  was  then  that  Mrs.  Rutherford  fell  back  fainting, 
and  that  Ethel  presently  came  running  in.  Hoyt  was 
thinking  of  it  all  as  the  unterrified  dragoon  left  the 
Secretary's  office,  and  not  until  that  dignified  gentle- 


TRASH  OR  TREASON?  221 

man  had  gone  some  minutes  did  the  Secretary  cool 
down  sufficiently  to  go  on  with  the  business  before 
him.  Then,  the  first  man  to  be  questioned  was  the 
blue-eyed  colonel,  still  balancing  on  his  crutches. 

"Have  you,  too,  come  to  say  you  wish  to  retract 
what  you  reported,  and  beg  this  man's  pardon?"  de- 
manded he,  glowering  like  a  mountain  lion,  as  he 
studied  the  silent  officer  before  him. 

"I  came  for  a  totally  different  purpose,  Mr.  Secre- 
tary," answered  Hoyt,  respectfully,  though  he,  too, 
chafed  at  the  tone  and  manner.  "I  came  to  beg  that 
my  adjutant  might  be  ordered  to  report  to  me  here 
for  just  forty-eight  hours.  He  is  with  the  regiment 
somewhere  along  the  upper  Rappahannock.  His 
mother  is  here  dangerously  ill  and  craving  to  see  him. 
He  is  now  her  only  son.  His  elder  brother  was  killed 
in  a  duel  with  Hugh  Preston,  of  Savannah,  barely  two 
years  ago — a  forced  quarrel,  as  Captain  Seabrook,  of 
the  Artillery,  bears  witness,  and  the  Oglethorpe  Club 
decided " 

"Did  you  know  Preston?  Would  you  know  him 
were  you  to  see  him  again?"  suddenly  interrupted  the 
Secretary. 

"I  never  knew  him,  sir.  I  was  in  the  Far  West 
when  it  happened,  but  Ralph  Rutherford  had  been^my 
most  intimate  friend " 

Stanton  held  up  a  hand  as  though  to  say  "That's 
enough,"  and  Hoyt  ceased.  For  a  moment  more  no 
word  was  spoken  as  the  Secretary  still  wrathfully 
strode  up  and"  down  the  room.  Then  at  last  he 


222  A   BROKEN    SWORD. 

stopped;  stared  again  at  Hoyt  and  his  crutches,  and 
seemed  suddenly  to  wake  to  the  situation.  "Take  a 
chair!  take  a  chair,  Colonel!"  he  cried.  "Be  seated, 
gentlemen.  I  quite  forgot."  Silently  the  three  obeyed, 
Hoyt  alone  desirous  of  remaining.  Thrice  Stanton 
walked  the  length  of  the  little  room,  his  massive  head 
bowed,  his  brows  knitting,  his  bearded  chin  almost  bur- 
rowing into  his  breast.  Then  abruptly  he  stopped  in 
front  of  the  crutches. 

"Colonel  Hoyt,  I  am  refusing  leaves  of  every  kind; 
forbidding  officers  to  come  to  Washington  unless  or- 
dered here  for  urgent  reasons,  but  I  am  going  to  send 
for  your  adjutant  forthwith.  Yet  I  wish  you  to  do 
something  for  me.  I  wish  to  feel  that  one  officer,  at 
least,  means  what  he  says,  and  has  got  the  backbone 
to  stand  by  what  he  says.  You  accused  Major  Harold 
Wallis  of  conduct  unbecoming  an  officer  and  a  gentle- 
man. You  declared  in  writing  your  reasons  for  believ- 
ing him  to  be  in  possession  of  stolen  letters, — practically, 
in  fact,  to  have  stolen  them.  Other  men,"  and  here 
he  glared  at  the  two  unfortunates  on  the  settee, 
"weaken  like  women  when  it  comes  to  the  test.  Do 
you  still  adhere  to  what  you  said?  Will  you  so  testify 
before  the  general  court?" 

"I  do,  sir— and  I  will." 


CHAPTER    XVIII. 

WITNESS    FOR   THE    PROSECUTION. 

THE  last  week  of  August  had  come.  A  general 
court  martial  had  assembled  in  the  city  of 
Washington  for  the  trial  of  Major  Harold  Wallis, 
— teenth  U.  S.  Infantry,  and  such  other  prisoners  as 
might  properly  be  brought  before  it,  which  limited 
the  culprits  to  regulars,  for  none  but  regulars  were 
of  the  detail.  A  venerable  graybeard,  of  forty  years 
of  service,  sat  at  their  head  as  president ;  a  keen  Penn- 
sylvania lawyer,  well  known  to  the  Secretary,  who 
had  cut  the  bar  for  a  commission  in  the  army,  figured 
as  judge  advocate.  It  was  by  no  means  his  first 
appearance  in  that  capacity.  He  had  gained  repute 
as  a  prosecutor  on  previous  trials.  Stanton  himself 
had  picked  him  for  the  case,  and  fully  was  he  imbued 
with  the  importance  of  the  occasion.  A  crowd  of 
witnesses  had  been  called  to  the  capital,  nor  had  they 
far  to  travel,  for  many  were  in  the  lines  along  the 
Potomac,  and  McClellan,  with  the  bulk  of  his  army, 
was  disembarking  at  Alexandria.  Sorely  against  his 
will,  Major  Holman  was  there,  for  the  gallant  Green 
Mountain  boys  were  eager  to  get  a  chance  at  Stone- 
wall Jackson,  and  that  renowned  leader,  with  his 
famous  Foot  Cavalry,  was  rumored  to  have  circled 

223 


224  A    BROKEN    SWORD. 

Pope's  right  wing  and  swooped  down  on  his  rear. 
Stories  on  the  twenty-seventh  were  flying  from  lip  to 
lip  that  the  rebel  host  had  crossed  the  upper  Rappa- 
hannock;  tramped  night  and  day  northward  to  the 
Manassas  railway;  turned  eastward  and,  pouring 
through  Thoroughfare  Gap,  were  now  twixt  Pope 
and  McClellan,  twixt  Warrenton  and  Washington. 
What  did  that  portend? 

But  inexorably  the  court  held  to  its  work.  One 
after  another  a  number  of  witnesses  had  appeared  for 
the  prosecution,  testifying  as  to  the  specifications 
supporting  the  charge  of  disloyalty  and  treason.  Of- 
ficers and  men  bore  witness  to  the  frequent  goings 
and  comings  of  the  accused  through  the  picket  lines 
on  the  Peninsula,  to  his  being  seen  in  conference  with 
an  officer  in  Confederate  uniform  near  the  Warwick, 
to  the  finding  of  cards  and  notes  among  the  debris 
of  the  Magruder  camp,  to  the  night  episode  that  led 
to  Barclay's  capture,  to  the  language  used  at  the 
Mullins  breakfast  when  the  band  struck  up  the  na- 
tional air.  Several  officers,  too,  had  told  of  disdain- 
ful references  to  the  household  of  the  White  House, 
if  not  to  the  head  of  the  nation.  Several  more,  unchal- 
lenged, spoke  of  contemptuous  or  disrespectful  things 
said  of  the  august  Secretary  of  War.  It  was  not  until 
the  morning  of  the  twenty-eighth  that  Holman,  chaf- 
ing with  impatience  to  get  away,  was  summoned  to 
the  stand,  a  sort  of  triumphant  clincher  of  the  case 
for  the  prosecution.  And  still  placidly,  courteously, 
imperturbably,  both  the  accused  and  his  distinguished 


FOR    THE    PROSECUTION.  225 

counsel  listened;  took  notes;  held  smiling,  whispered 
conferences  and — their  tongues.  To  the  utter  and 
unconcealed  surprise — to  the  manifest  perplexity — of 
the  Judge  Advocate  they  declined  his  invitation,  save 
in  very  moderate  degree,  to  cross-question  or  to  inter- 
pose. The  soldier  lawyer  had  looked  for  all  manner 
of  legal  and  forensic  battling.  The  Secretary  had  ex- 
pected and  said  as  much.  It  was  prophesied  that  Wal- 
lis  would  object  to  no  less  than  four  members  of  the 
court  on  the  ground  of  bias  and  prejudice,  if  not  mal- 
ice, for  they  were  men  well  known  to  be  inimical  to 
him.  He  had  objected  to  no  one.  On  the  contrary, 
he  had  most  gracefully  availed  himself  of  the  oppor- 
tunity to  object  by  saying  that  he  unhesitatingly 
placed  his  honor  in  the  keeping  of  this  tribunal  of 
his  brother  officers,  without  doubt  or  fear  as  to  the 
result.  The  Judge  Advocate  looked  for  vehement 
cross-examination  of  his  witnesses, — for  protest 
against  their  testimony,  and  nothing  of  the  kind 
occurred.  The  accused  and  his  Baltimore  counsel 
listened  to  their  most  damaging  statements  with  an 
expression  of  interest  and  tolerance  that  puzzled  the 
prosecution  beyond  words.  They  had  all  the  appear- 
ance of  saying  they  would  not  interrupt  for  the  world, 
and  all  the  courtroom  wondered.  It  was  not  until 
Major  Holman  begged  to  know  if  he  might  not  has- 
ten after  his  regiment,  now  somewhere  out  about 
Centerville,  that  a  hint  was  given  as  to  what  might 
be  coming.  The  Honorable  Beverly  Hanson  re- 
gretted the  necessity,  but,  as  counsel  for  the  accused, 


226  A    BROKEN    SWORD. 

he  should  be  compelled  to  call  Major  Holman  and 
probably  several  of  the  others  for  the  defense.  Hol- 
man had  declared  he  heard  through  the  darkness  the 
voice  of  Major  Wallis  saying  "How  can  you  be  such 
a  brute,  Eugene?"  and  Eugene,  presumably,  was  the 
name  of  the  unseen  Southerner  who  had  managed  to 
escape.  That,  as  was  well  known  to  many  of  the 
court,  was  the  name  of  Wallis's  younger  brother. 

At  one  o'clock  there  was  a  recess  for  luncheon.  At 
two  they  were  to  reassemble  and  to  sit  without  regard 
to  hours  instead  of  adjourning  at  three  P.  M.,  as  was 
the  method  of  the  Mutiny  Act  from  which  we  sons  of 
old  England  took  our  system  of  court-martial.  At 
two  the  Judge  Advocate  purposed  opening  the  case 
on  the  second  and  glaring  charge  of  conduct  unbe- 
coming an  officer  and  a  gentleman,  Colonel  Bernard 
Hoyt,  — th  New  York  Cavalry  being  summoned  to 
the  stand.  But  at  half  past  two,  the  court  having 
reopened,  the  room  being  packed  with  almost  breath- 
less spectators,  the  Judge  Advocate  was  nervously 
darting  in  and  out,  orderlies  \vere  clattering  through 
the  resounding  corridors,  and  a  message  had  gone 
post  haste  to  Willard's,  for  Colonel  Bernard  Hoyt 
had  not  appeared.  It  was  nearly  2.40  when  a 
carriage  landed  him  on  the  red  brick  pavement  with- 
out, and  a  brace  of  troopers  aided  him,  pale  and  weak 
— a  sore-stricken  man  as  all  could  see — up  the  stairs 
and  to  a  seat  in  the  court  room. 

The  President  of  the  court,  noting  the  sudden 
silence  that  had  succeeded  the  buzz  of  low-toned  talk 


FOR    THE    PROSECUTION.  227 

about  the  crowded  room,  looked  up  from  the  batch 
of  papers  he  had  been  intently  studying,  pointing  out 
from  time  to  time  to  the  crony  on  his  right  certain 
words  or  paragraphs  that  arrested  his  attention.  The 
delay  had  nettled  him,  for  matters  at  the  front  seemed 
oddly  mixed  and  he  was  eager  to  adjourn  and  hurry 
over  to  the  War  Department  for  later  tidings.  The 
Judge  Advocate,  his  keen  face  veiled  in  deep  concern 
at  sight  of  Hoyt,  hurried  over  to  greet  and  aid  him; 
but  before  he  could  exchange  a  dozen  words  the 
President  was  speaking.  There  was  reprimand  on 
the  tip  of  his  tongue,  too,  for  the  veteran  was  a  stick- 
ler for  discipline,  and  court  had  been  kept  fully  forty 
minutes;  but  one  glimpse  of  Hoyt's  pallid  face 
checked  the  demand  for  explanation. 

"We  can  proceed  to  business,  Mr.  Judge  Advocate, 
I  presume/'  said  he,  "if — if  your  witness  is  ready  at 
last.  The  court  will  come  to  order." 

So,  without  opportunity  to  inquire  as  to  what  was 
amiss,  the  conductor  of  the  proceedings  had  to  hasten 
to  his  seat  at  the  foot  of  the  long,  paper-littered  table, 
and  begin.  Up  to  this  time  the  accused  officer  and  his 
counsel  had  occupied  chairs  at  a  little  table  at  the 
left  hand  of  the  Judge  Advocate,  perhaps  eight  feet 
away,  and  each  witness  in  turn,  after  being  sworn, 
had  taken  a  chair  placed  to  the  right  of  the  Judge 
Advocate  and  a  little  in  front  of  him — an  odd  arrange- 
ment and  one  peculiar  to  military  procedure  of  the 
day,  since  the  junior  members  of  the  court,  which 
corresponds  to  the  jury  in  civil  cases,  sitting  in  their 


228  A    BROKEN    SWORD. 

order  of  rank  at  the  left  hand  of  the  President,  could 
only  see  the  witness  by  turning  their  chairs  about, 
thus  bringing  their  backs  to  the  table.  Major  Flint, 
the  Judge  Advocate,  more  than  once,  in  the  early 
stages  of  the  trial,  had  referred  caustically  to  the  in- 
convenience of  such  arrangement.  General  Buck- 
ram, the  President,  had  never  seen  it  done  any  other 
way,  and,  with  the  conservatism  of  the  old  soldier, 
would  brook  no  innovation.  Now,  as  Colonel  Hoyt 
slowly  hobbled  on  his  crutches  to  the  indicated  spot 
and  stood  facing  the  Judge  Advocate,  a  deep  silence 
fell  on  the  assembled  throng.  The  words  of  the  sol- 
emn oath,  without  solemnity,  were  rattled  off  by  the 
Judge  Advocate,  his  right  hand  uplifted,  his  left  thrust 
deep  into  his  trousers'  pocket,  and  were  responded  to 
with  bowed  head,  in  deep  tremulous  tones.  "I  do — • 
so  help  me  God!"  Then,  as  Colonel  Hoyt  sank  heav- 
ily into  the  plain  wooden  chair,  two  of  the  juniors  on 
his  side  of  the  table  turned  their  seats  and  gravely 
faced  him.  Few  on  the  court  were  his  seniors  in  rank 
in  the  combined  services,  regular  and  volunteer.  All 
were  his  seniors  in  years  of  service  in  the  regular 
army,  and  all  knew  him  by  reputation  favorably  and 
well.  All  noted  with  anxiety  the  symptoms  of  seri- 
ous distress,  either  of  body  or  of  mind,  perhaps  both; 
but  "the  law's  delay"  could  not  extend  to  a  possibly 
unwilling  witness.  The  court  to  a  man  had  heard  of, 
and  two  had  seen,  Wallis's  attempted  assault  at  Wil- 
lard's,  and  wondered,  some  of  them,  why  that,  too, 
had  not  been  crystallized  in  a  specification  to  the  seq- 


FOR    THE    PROSECUTION.  229 

ond  charge.  Among  the  spectators  crowding  at  the 
doorway  stood  a  young  assistant  surgeon  who  had 
accompanied  Hoyt  from  Willard's.  Now  he  was  nar- 
rowly watching  his  patient  and  suddenly  stepped 
forward;  spoke  ten  words  in  low  tones  to  the  Judge 
Advocate,  who  started  and  said,  "Certainly,"  whereat 
the  doctor  straightened  up  and  signalled  to  a  soldier 
in  the  throng  at  the  door,  and  presently  this  soldier 
came  hurrying  in  with  a  brimming  glass  of  water. 
Hoyt  swallowed  it  eagerly  and  to  the  last  drop.  Spec- 
tators on  both  sides  began  edging  down  so  as  to  be 
nearer  the  witness  stand,  and  then  it  was  noted  that 
Major  Wallis  and  his  counsel,  who  had  been  content 
to  remain  at  quite  a  distance  from  previous  witnesses, 
now  lifted  their  littered  table  and  brought  it  close 
to  the  Judge  Advocate's  desk.  The  light  entered 
the  long  room  from  two  high  windows  back  of  the 
President's  seat,  and  from  three  along  the  eastward 
side.  Hoyt  sat  facing  this  side  light,  and,  as  though 
it  hurt  him,  wearily  lifted  his  hand  and  passed  it  over 
his  haggard  eyes.  Then  a  newcomer,  with  an  air  of 
authority  about  him,  forced  his  way  through  the 
wedge-shaped  mass  at  the  door,  and  stood  revealed 
in  the  trim-fitting  uniform  of  a  captain  of  cavalry. 
It  was  Reins,  he  who  had  dared  to  remind  the  Hon- 
orable Secretary  of  the  immortal  case  of  Bardell  vs. 
Pickwick.  At  sight  of  him  there  was  for  an  instant 
a  gleam  in  Hoyt's  blue  eyes,  but  not  for  long.  Reins 
carried  in  his  hand  a  cane  campstool,  opened  it,  and 
with  utter  placidity  seated  himself  in  the  front  row 


23o  A    BROKEN    SWORD. 

of  spectators,  not  more  than  five  feet  from  the  wit- 
ness. The  Judge  Advocate  looked  at  him  in  dis- 
approbation; moved  his  lips  as  though  to  speak; 
thought  better  of  it,  and  turned  with  pencil  poised, 
on  the  pallid  officer  now  seeking  to  bestow  his 
crutches  where  they  would  be  out  of  his  way.  Coolly 
Reins  arose;  stretched  forth  his  hands;  took  the 
crutches,  bent  and  murmured  a  few  words  in  the  col- 
onel's ear,  whereat  the  President  rapped  sharply,  and 
the  Judge  Advocate  started  from  his  seat. 

"Spectators  must  not  presume  to  speak  to  witnesses 
in  this  court,  sir,"  boomed  the  general,  from  the  head 
of  the  table. 

"I  beg  the  pardon  of  the  court,"  most  penitently 
and  respectfully  replied  the  culprit.  "I  should  not 
have  presumed  to  do  so  had  I  thought  it  possible  to 
speak  to  him  elsewhere.  I  have  ventured  to  inform 
Colonel  Hoyt  that  I  had  just  returned  from  Warren- 
ton  Junction,  that  I  saw  his  regiment  yesterday  morn- 
ing, and  that  they  sent  their  love  to  him." 

"Are  you  summoned  as  a  witness  in  this  case?"  de- 
manded the  President,  his  choler  rising  with  the  titter 
faintly  heard  about  the  room. 

"I  am  not,  sir.  I  bore  despatches  from  General 
Porter  to  General  McClellan,  and  was  bidden  to  take 
them  on  to  the  War  Department.  At  five  I  return 
to  Alexandria."  And  the  very  soldierly-looking  vis- 
itor seemed  deriving  unsoldierly  amusement  from  the 
situation.  The  President  growled  some  inarticulate 
words;  then  wound  up  abruptly.  "Proceed,  Mr, 


FOR    THE    PROSECUTION.  23^. 

Judge  Advocate,  and  let  there  be  no  more  unseemly 
interruptions." 

Then  silence  and  attention  were  resumed  as  the 
Judge  Advocate  began  the  stereotyped  questions  as 
to  the  name  and  rank  of  the  witness  and  his  knowl- 
edge of  the  accused.  At  the  second  query  Hoyt 
turned  his  pale  face,  and  the  blue  eyes  gazed  squarely, 
yet  strangely,  at  the  distinguished  looking  prisoner 
before  the  court — then  at  his  gray-haired  counsel. 

"I  have  known  him,  I  think,  since  the  summer  of 

1859." 

"You  were  then  stationed — where?" 

"We  were  serving  with  the  so-called  Utah  Expedi- 
tion," was  the  answer. 

"Where  were  you  last  associated  with  the  ac- 
cused?" asked  the  Judge  Advocate,  in  calm,  profes- 
sional tone. 

"In  New  York  City,  during  the  spring  of  1861,  and 
— I  met  him  here  for  a  moment — on  one  occasion, 
afterwards."  Hoyt  hesitated — even  faltered — as  he 
gave  his  answer.  Resting  his  handsome,  dark  head 
on  his  hand,  Wallis  sat  immovable,  his  eyes  fixed  on 
the  speakers,  glancing  alternately  from  the  examiner 
to  the  examined.  The  Judge  Advocate  penciled  his 
next  question  with  more  than  usual  care,  making  cer- 
tain erasures  and  substitutions,  ere  he  raised  his  head 
and  read  aloud. 

"Had  you  occasion  last  year  to  make  report  or  rep- 
resentation to  the  War  Department  reflecting  on  the 
character  of  the  accused?  If  so " 


232  A    BROKEN    SWORD. 

"One  moment,  Major,"  interposed  Mr.  Hanson, 
eagerly,  yet  suavely,  his  gray  head  courteously  in- 
clined, his  soft,  right  hand  uplifted  in  mild  protest. 

"We  object  to  the  form "  But  almost  in  the  same 

instant  Wallis  was  on  his  feet. 

"No — ah,  Mr.  Judge  Advocate,  and  by  your  leave, 
ah,  Mr.  Hanson,  I  venture  to  oppose  even  my  counsel. 
We  object  to  nothing.  I  beg  that  the  question  be  put 
— and  answered."  Then  in  low,  yet  eager  tone,  he 
bent  and  spoke  some  words  in  his  counsel's  ear.  The 
great  lawyer  listened,  flushed,  looked  queerly  at  his 
client  and  then  at  the  pallid  witness,  and  without 
another  word  resumed  his  seat. 

"If  so,"  continued  Major  Flint,  after  a  moment's 
pause,  "state  the  circumstances." 

For  ten  seconds  there  was  no  reply.  With  a  world 
of  anxiety,  even  of  distress,  in  his  blue  eyes,  Hoyt  sat 
nervously  drumming  with  his  fingers  on  the  arms 
of  the  chair,  Wallis  calmly  studying  him  the  while. 
When  at  last  the  answer  came,,  the  tone  was  hesitant, 
faltering.  *. 

"I— had,"  said  Hoyt.  "The  report,  or  rather  the  let- 
ter, is  on  file,  doubtless,  at  the  War  Department,  if  it  has 
not  been  placed  in  the  hands  of  the  Judge  Advocate, 
and — I  should  rather  it  were  exhibited  to  the  court,  than 
to  repeat — verbally,  and — in  this  presence,"  and  here 
the  troubled  eyes  glanced  about  him  at  the  throng  of 
soldier  faces,  "allegations  which  were  based  on  the 
statements  of — friends  in  whom  I  had  implicit  confi- 
dence, but  who — in  part  at  least,  have  within  the  past 


FOR    THE    PROSECUTION.  233 

few  hours — informed  me  that  their  suspicions — and  my 
accusation — were  unjust — that  the  accused  officer  had 
made  it  clear  that  he  was — unjustly  suspected  :  in  fine — 
that  I  was  wrong.  Here  and  now  I  accept  the  respon- 
sibility. The  report  was  made  in  entire  confidence 
that  it  would  be  fully  substantiated.  I  must  this  day 
inform  the  Adjutant  General  that — it  cannot  be  main- 
tained." 

The  silence  that  hung  over  the  crowded  courtroom 
was  such  that  the  labored  breathing  of  the  witness  could 
be  distinctly  heard,  even  in  the  corridor  without  the 
open  doorway,  where  men  were  standing  on  boxes  and 
chairs  to  enable  them  to  see  over  the  heads  of  those 
blocking  the  entrance  way.  Major  Flint  sat  like  a  man 
in  a  trance,  gazing  straight  at  Hoyt  with  wide  open,  yet 
almost  unseeing  eyes.  As  he  expressed  it  later — "The 
whole  room  began  to  swim."  Old  Buckram,  in  his  box 
epaulettes — the  only  officer  at  the  table  in  the  full  dress 
uniform  of  the  ante-bellum  days — grew  redder  and 
redder  as  he  glared  through  his  spectacles  at  the 
humbled  soldier  in  the  witness  chair.  Tears  started  to 
the  eyes  of  two  of  the  senior  officers  at  the  board — men 
who  had  known  Bernard  Hoyt  from  the  days  he  wore 
the  gray  and  bell  buttons,  and  had  never  known  him  to 
say  the  word  or  do  the  deed  that  could  shake  his  status 
as  a  gentleman.  Captain  Reins  started  from  his  chair 
with  outstretched  hand  as  though  he  longed  to  place  it 
on  the  shoulder  of  the  witness.  Others  sat  in  a  sort 
of  stupefaction,  gazing,  as  did  the  mass  of  spectators, 
first  at  the  last  speaker,  then  at  the  accused  before  the 


234  A    BROKEN    SWORD. 

court.  Men  could  hardly  believe  their  senses  as  they 
looked  upon  that  erstwhile  debonair,  disdainful  officer, 
at  once  the  envy  and  the  despair  of  so  many  of  his 
cloth.  In  all  their  knowledge  or  conception  of  him, 
never  once  had  Harold  Wallis  been  known  to  display 
emotion;  yet  a  dozen  witnesses,  if  need  be,  could  now 
be  found  to  declare  that,  under  the  drooping  moustache 
the  finely  chiseled  lips  were  quivering — that  the  long, 
sweeping  lashes  that  shaded  the  dark  eyes  were  sud- 
denly dripping  with  a  heavy  dew. 

Then,  just  as  the  astonishment  of  the  throng  of  lis- 
teners, signalized  at  first  by  dead  silence,  began  to  find 
vent  in  low-toned  exclamations,  long-drawn  breaths  and 
sighs,  there  was  sudden  movement  at  the  door.  Hoyt 
had  bent  forward,  bowing  his  head  upon,  and,  as  he 
finished,  screening  his  eyes  with  his  thin,  white  hand. 
It  had  begun  slowly  to  sway,  when  the  young  doc- 
tor sprang  from  the  spot,  where,  with  all  his  soul 
in  his  eyes,  he  had  been  watching  the  witness.  In  a 
second  he  had  reached  the  chair  and  passed  an  arm 
around  the  drooping  figure.  "Gentlemen,"  he  said, 
"Colonel  Hoyt  is  too  ill  to  proceed.  Some  water, 
please!" 

Another  moment  and  half  a  dozen  men  were  swarm- 
ing about  the  stricken  witness,  ignoring  Buckram's 
banging  on  the  table  and  demands  for  order.  Major 
Flint  sprang  to  his  feet ;  hurried  to  the  President's  chair 
and  whispered  a  few  eager  words.  A  tall  young  officer, 
with  very  blond  hair  and  faint  moustache,  wearing  the 
dress  of  a  cavalry  subaltern,  burst  through  the  crowd 


FOR    THE    PROSECUTION.  235 

at  the  doorway  and  knelt  at  the  colonel's  side,  his  white 
face  quivering  with  grief  and  dread.  And  over  the 
hubbub  and  confusion  that  prevailed  the  voice  of  the 
President  was  presently  heard  proclaiming  that  court 
was  adjourned  until  ten  A.  M.  to-morrow. 


CHAPTER   XIX. 


WHATEVER  the  interest  felt  by  the  great  war 
secretary  in  the  proceedings  of  the  Wallis 
court-martial,  it  was  forgotten  for  the  time  at  least  in 
another  whirlwind  of  excitement,  following  close  upon 
the  collapse  of  the  case  for  the  prosecution.  Fierce  bat- 
tling had  begun  that  very  evening  in  sight  of  Centerville, 
barely  thirty  miles  away,  and  continued  much  of  the 
2Qth  and  all  of  the  3Oth  of  August.  The  bulletins  from 
the  far  front,  signed  by  the  commanding  general,  were 
of  the  most  inspiring  character.  The  right  man  had 
apparently  at  last  been  found,  and  now,  with  another 
general  who  had  never  yet  been  tried  against  Lee  and 
Jackson,  assigned  to  duty  in  Washington  as  General- 
in-Chief  and  commander  of  all  the  forces  in  the  field,  the 
hopes  of  the  administration  were  high.  Pope  had  lured 
and  tempted  the  daring  Virginians  far  forward  from 
their  legitimate  line  beyond  the  Rapidan ;  had  success- 
fully manoeuvred  them  into  a  false  position ;  had  inter- 
posed between  the  widely  separated  wings  of  Jackson 
and  Longstreet;  had  got  the  former  "just  where  he 
wanted  him,"  and  was  now  proceeding  to  crush  him  out 
of  existence.  Jackson  had  been  coaxed  by  the  heavily 
baited  hook  to  Manassas  Junction,  between  Pope  and 

236 


"GIVE    HIM    ROPE."  237 

McClellan,  between  Warrenton  and  Washington,  as 
had  been  said,  and  now  there  was  no  hope  for  him. 
Skeptics,  it  is  true,  who  had  known  John  Pope  and 
read  John  Phoenix,  declared  that  the  former's  descrip- 
tion of  the  situation  bore  odd  resemblance  to  the  latter's 
famous  account  of  his  fight  with  the  returning  editor  of 
the  San  Diego  Herald.  Skeptics  said  that  Pope  pinned 
Jackson  by  a  process  as  simple  and  satisfactory  as  that 
by  which  Phoenix  held  the  editor,  to-wit,  by  skillfully 
inserting  his  nose  between  the  editorial  teeth,  thereby 
preventing  the  editor's  rising.  Cynics  said  that  Pope's 
triumphal  progress  backward  from  Cedar  Mountain  to 
Centerville  had  historical  parallel  in  the  masterly  march 
of  Napoleon  from  Dresden  back  to  Paris,  and  Pope's 
stirring  reports  had  their  parallel  also  in  the  bulletins 
after  Preuss  Eylau  and  Leipsic — if  not  in  the  memoirs 
of  the  late  lamented  Munchausen :  "We  have  made 
great  captures,"  wrote  the  general,  though  the  prisoners 
must  have  been  later  released,  possibly  on  their  own 
recognizance — and  the  captors  were  falling  back  on  the 
heights  of  Centerville.  "You  have  done  nobly,"  an- 
swered Halleck,  from  the  shaded  precincts  of  the  War 
Department,  even  though  he  marveled  at  the  recupera- 
tive powers  of  Lee's  beaten  army,  declared  the  previous 
day  to  be  in  full  retreat  for  the  mountains.  From 
Alexandria  McClellaw  sent  word  that  an  officer  just  in 
from  Manassas  said  there  seemed  urgent  need  of  a  head 
at  the  front,  thereby  adding  to  the  head  and  front  of  his 
offending,  and  finally,  when  Jackson  made  another  of 
his  flanking  marches ;  swooped  a  few  miles  closer  to  the 


238  A    BROKEN    SWORD. 

capital  and  killed  brave  Phil  Kearny  and  "Ike"  Stevens 
almost  within  sight  of  the  unfinished  dome ;  and  Pope's 
heads  of  columns  began  to  show  on  the  hither  side  of 
Fairfax,  while  those  of  Lee,  with  Stuart's  bold  horse- 
men in  the  van,  popped  into  view  up  the  Potomac  barely 
twenty  miles  away,  it  became  evident  to  the  administra- 
tion that  the  Pope's  nose  was  no  longer  the  tit  bit  of  the 
national  bird,  that  it  no  longer  held  the  teeth  of  the 
Southern  war  dogs.  And  when  once  more  the  Army  of 
the  Potomac  crossed  the  Long  Bridge  in  quest  of  the 
Confederate  foe,  it  was  northward,  not  southward 
bound ;  but  Little  Mac  was  again  at  its  head,  and  Pope's 
headquarters  had  quit  the  saddle — forever. 

In  all  the  turmoil  of  that  bewildering  week,  no 
wonder  the  court  was  well  nigh  forgotten.  No  wonder 
no  note  was  taken  of  the  fact  that  certain  witnesses  had 
slipped  away  to  rejoin  their  regiments  on  the  way  to 
South  Mountain,  and  that  further  proceedings  were 
rendered  impolitic  by  the  fact  that  two  of  the  detail, 
seeing  no  likelihood  of  another  session  in  the  near 
future,  had  dared  to  gallop  after  their  regiments  and  to 
take  part  in  the  desperate,  mismanaged  fighting  across 
the  Antietam.  It  made  little  difference  in  one  way,  for 
the  prosecution  had  proved  its  case  only  on  certain 
minor  counts.  It  had  failed  utterly  to  substantiate  the 
grave  charge  of  treason  or  that  of  conduct  unbecoming 
an  officer  and  gentleman.  Defense,  except  on  these 
minor  counts,  was  quite  unnecessary;  but  Wallis  and 
his  counsel  sought  and  demanded  exhaustive  investiga- 
tion and  a  verdict  in  accordance  with  the  facts  estab- 


"GIVE    HIM    ROPE."  239 

lished.  They  presented  themselves  at  the  courtroom  at 
every  possible  time  of  meeting,  urging  that,  even  with 
the  absence  of  the  two  members,  the  court  was  not  re- 
duced below  the  minimum ;  that  it  was  still  competent  to 
"try  and  determine" ;  that,  despite  Holman's  going, 
there  were  other  witnesses ;  and  they  presented  a  list  of 
names,  begging  that  these  officers,  too,  might  be  sum- 
moned. Major  Flint  went  to  the  Judge  Advocate 
General  for  instructions,  and  the  Judge  Advocate  Gen- 
eral to  the  exasperated  Secretary ;  but  the  Secretary  was 
in  a  quandary.  If  that  court  were  allowed  to  continue 
its  sessions,  as  he  clearly  saw,  the  chances  were  that, 
three  to  one,  it  would  acquit  Wallis  on  the  most  im- 
portant points  and  punish  him  but  lightly,  if  at  all. 
Whereas,  if  Stanton  could  procrastinate,  other  witnesses 
might  be  found  to  fill  the  gaps  created  by  Hoyt's  re- 
markable "slump,"  a  thing  the  Secretary  could  speak  of 
only  with  wrath  and  amaze.  It  might  even  be  possible 
to  secure  the  exchange  and  return  of  Lieutenant  Bar- 
clay, whose  evidence  would  surely  be  damning.  Rue- 
fully had  the  Secretary  been  compelled  to  grant  "ex- 
tended limits"  in  response  to  the  demands  of  counsel  in 
the  case  of  Wallis,  and  urgently  had  he  been  advised  by 
friends  of  the  administration,  to  drop  the  whole  fight, 
even  though  the  court  acquit.  "Give  Wallis  rope 
enough  and  he'll  hang  himself,"  said  one  adviser. 
"Hold  him  another  week  and  the  press  will  hang  you," 
said  another,  for  now  September,  too,  was  nearing  its 
close,  and  the  papers  had  time  to  turn  to  something  be- 
sides the  losses  and  disasters  of  the  recent  campaign. 


24o  A   BROKEN    SWORD. 

But  the  court  was  held  to  await  the  call  of  the  President 
and  the  coming  of  other  witnesses.  Stanton  saw  a  way. 

Meanwhile  it  really  began  to  look  as  though,  in  spite 
of  all  his  reckless  disregard  of  soldier  propriety,  the  star 
of  Wallis  was  in  the  ascendant.  It  is  infinitely  easier 
to  start  a  scandal  than  to  stop  or  prove  it.  All  over 
Washington  men  and  women  were  talking  of  the  trial 
and  of  the  utterly  unlocked  for  admission  of  Colonel 
Hoyt.  For  several  days  after  his  breakdown  in  court 
that  gallant  officer  had  been  threatened  with  brain  fever, 
the  only  thing  that  stood  between  him  and  a  summons 
to  appear  in  person  before  the  Secretary  to  explain,  if 
explain  he  could.  Mrs.  Rutherford,  too,  was  seriously 
ill,  constantly  attended  by  her  daughter,  nurse  and 
physician.  Gerald,  stunned  and  sore-hearted,  had  had 
to  return  to  his  regiment,  now  with  Pleasonton  some- 
where up  the  Potomac.  By  the  advice  of  all  the  doctors 
in  the  case,  Mrs.  Rutherford  was  taken  to  that  old-time 
resort  of  old-time  New  Yorkers — Long  Branch,  on  the 
Jersey  coast — whither  Hoyt  had  already  been  sent,  and 
once  again  were  they  under  the  same  roof,  but,  as  all 
could  see,  no  longer  on  the  same  terms.  A  serious 
estrangement  had  grown  between  the  wounded  officer 
and  the  sorely  stricken  woman — something  Ethel  had 
not  failed  to  note,  yet  from  the  start  had  been  bidden 
not  to  question. 

Once  again  was  Wallis  the  cynosure  of  all  eyes  as,  in 
the  September  evenings,  he  sauntered  airily  into  the 
lobby  at  Willard's,  generally  in  the  company  of  some 
prominent  senator,  never  with  man  or  woman  whose 


"GIVE   HIM    ROPE."  241 

society  did  not  convey  distinction.  He  held  his  head 
higher,  said  certain  correspondents,  than  many  a  gen- 
eral, and  with  good  and  sufficient  reason.  He  moved  in 
circles  sought  in  vain  by  many  a  superior  in  rank,  and 
for  a  time,  at  least,  both  in  language  and  in  the  daily 
ordering  of  his  life,  was  discretion  itself — a  thing  that 
must  have  bored  him  infinitely.  Judge  Hanson,  his 
gifted  counsel,  had  returned  to  Baltimore  in  the  belief 
that  October  would  come  before  another  session  of  the 
court,  which  was  meantime  pegging  away  in  reduced 
numbers  on  other  cases  brought  before  it;  and  there 
was  perceptible  lull  in  the  situation  when,  all  on  a  sud- 
den, there  came  to  the  city  some  unlooked-for  visitors 
— Miss  Lorna  Brenham,  under  the  wing  of  her  mater- 
nal aunt  and  chaperon,  Mrs.  de  Ruyter,  of  New  York ; 
Mr.  James  J.  Granger,  under  the  sway  of  a  passion  he 
was  powerless  to  conceal,  drawn  as  though  by  a  single 
hair. 

Not  upon  the  register  of  Willard's  or  other  caravan- 
serai did  the  names  appear.  Secret  service  officials 
alone  took  note  of  their  coming,  and  a  close  carriage 
conveyed  them  in  the  shades  of  evening  over  the  long, 
muddy,  ill-paved  route  from  the  Baltimore  and  Ohio 
station,  past  the  colonnaded  Treasury  building,  past  the 
White  House,  past  the  blue-coated  guards  at  the  old 
brown  War  Department,  then,  turning  to  the  right, 
went  up  the  street  where  Wallis  led  the  officials  their 
lively  chase  long  months  before.  Mr.  Carmichael,  that 
keen-faced  man  in  plain  clothes,  and  a  cab,  was  in  no 
wise  surprised  when  the  carriage  stopped  at  the  very 


242  A    BROKEN    SWORD. 

same  door  whence  he  had  seen  Wallis  issue  in  company 
with  that  distinguished  looking  stranger  known  as 
Major  Forno.  The  parlor  windows  glowed.  The  hos- 
pitably open  door  permitted  a  broad  beam  from  the  hall 
to  pour  forth  upon  the  night,  and  the  solitary  occupant 
of  the  cab  noted  that  two  trunks  and  several  items  of 
hand  luggage  were  borne  after  the  newcomers  into  the 
house,  but  the  carriage  was  not  discharged  of  all  its 
load.  It  was  still  at  the  curb  as  Mr.  Carmichael  came 
sauntering  back  from  Twenty-first  Street,  where  he  had 
dismissed  his  cab,  and  strolled  along  the  opposite  side- 
walk. Then,  in  the  course  of  ten  minutes,  Mr.  Granger 
had  bounded  down  the  steps  and  been  driven  away. 
There  would  be  no  trouble  finding  out  later  whither  he 
had  gone;  Carmichael's  business  was  with  the  house 
itself.  When  toward  9.30  another  carriage  came  rolling 
up  the  street  and  unloaded  at  the  same  door,  Mr. 
Granger  was  the  first  to  step  forth,  and,  just  as  Car- 
michael expected,  he  was  followed  by  the  tall,  soldierly 
form  of  Major  Wallis.  "Give  him  rope/'  murmured 
Mr.  Carmichael,  "that's  what  the  Secretary  said — give 
him  rope.  This  time  he'll  get  it  round  his  precious 
neck." 

This  was  the  week  that  followed  Antietam,  during 
which  time  it  seemed  as  though  once  again  Little  Mac 
and  his  chosen  were,  after  all,  to  reign  supreme  in  the 
military  affairs  of  the  nation.  The  men  in  high  com- 
mand, who  seriously  differed  with  him  and  his  methods, 
had  suffered  curious  discomfiture.  Pope,  of  whom  so 
much  had  been  expected,  found  himself  utterly  out- 


"GIVE    HIM    ROPE."  243 

classed  and  presently  relegated  to  a  department  at  the 
distant  rear.  McDowell,  who  was  supposed  to  know  all 
about  the  neighborhood  of  Bull  Run,  had,  when  most 
needed,  lost  himself  and  his  corps  as  a  consequence. 
Kearny  and  Stevens,  Mansfield  and  Reno,  Rodman 
and  Richardson  were  killed,  Hooker  and  Sedgwick 
wounded.  The  faithful  to  the  fortunes  of  the  great 
little  organizer  were  assured  in  their  commands,  while 
others,  less  susceptible  to  youthful  enthusiasms,  were 
relieved.  The  cavalry  were  taken  from  the  sterling 
soldier,  w7ho  well  knew  how  to  lead  them,  and  given  to 
untried  hands.  Cooke's  charge  at  Gaines's  Mill  had 
developed  Porter's  counter  charge  of  disobedience  on, 
and  disappearance  from,  the  field ;  both  unfounded,  yet 
sufficient.  Pope's  Army  of  Virginia  was  broken  up 
and  merged  in  the  Army  of  the  Potomac — probably  the 
best  thing  that  could  have  happened  to  it,  for  there 
by  hundreds  were  brave  and  brilliant  officers  and  by 
thousands  loyal  and  devoted  men,  destined  despite  the 
superb  skill  and  valor  of  the  opposing  generals  and  the 
long-continued  misfortunes  of  their  own,  to  endure  to 
the  end  and  to  win  immortal  fame  and  victory. 

Meantime  Washington  was  crammed  with  officers 
and  soldiers,  sick,  wounded  or  astray,  and  the  White 
House  with  would-be  advisers  of  the  President,  full  of 
suggestion,  self-importance  and  importunity.  All  the 
efforts  of  the  provost  marshal  to  separate  the  martial 
sheep  from  the  goats,  to  gather  in  the  stragglers,  de- 
serters, absentees  and  over-stays  were  insufficient  to 
greatly  reduce  the  number  of  uniforms  in  evidence  in 


244  A    BROKEN    SWORD. 

the  streets  and  suburbs.  Bars,  billiard  rooms  and  hotel 
lobbies  were  measurably  purged  of  loungers  and  roister- 
ers in  the  Union  blue;  but  still  the  array  of  the 
temporarily  incapacitated,  bearing  unimpeachable  pa- 
pers or  claiming  to  have  mislaid  them,  was  something 
almost  incredible.  The  city  filled  up  with  faces  strange 
to  the  most  expert  of  the  secret  service,  and,  so  long 
as  these  faces  looked  pallid  or  haggard  as  the  result  of 
recent  wounds  or  illness,  they  commanded  sympathy 
and  kindly  aid.  What  stirred  Stanton  to  the  core  was 
the  sight  of  so  many  apparently  sound  and  hearty  men 
strolling  about  the  quiet  streets.  His  orders,  therefore, 
had  become  more  stringent.  The  patrols  of  the  provost 
marshal  were  constantly  on  the  move  and,  every  few 
minutes,  even  wounded  officers,  taking  the  air  in  open 
carriages  or  hobbling  on  crutches  along  the  shady  side 
of  the  Avenue,  were  compelled  to  stop  and  show  their 
passes  or  papers.  Some  of  them  took  to  hanging  the 
envelope  from  a  string  about  their  necks  or  tied  to  a 
button.  Some  facetious  volunteers  displayed  their 
credentials  pinned  to  the  broad  of  their  backs.  Almost 
every  man,  however,  was  strictly  watched  and  ac- 
counted for.  Even  private  citizens  were  not  infre- 
quently required  to  give  their  names  and  addresses  and 
to  establish  their  identity,  for  many  a  soldier  sought  for 
the  time  to  hide  his  trade  in  the  garb  of  civil  life.  Mr. 
James  J.  Granger  was  much  incensed  the  morning  after 
his  arrival  at  being  thrice  accosted  on  the  street,  twice 
by  officers  commanding  patrols,  once  by  a  soft-voiced 
stranger,  in  pepper  and  salt  sack  and  "peg  tops,"  who 


"GIVE    HIM    ROPE."  245 

displayed  a  star  within  his  coat  and  anxiety  as  to  Mr. 
Granger's  name  and  business.  Granger  gave  his  name 
and  address  without  embarrassment,  but  stumbled  over 
the  business,  compromising  finally  on  "visiting  friends 
and  seeking  information  concerning  relatives." 

He  had  taken,  as  prearranged,  a  quiet  room  in  a  quiet 
neighborhood  not  ten  blocks  from  Willard's  or  five  from 
Twentieth  Street.  He  had  not  been  too  well  pleased 
that  the  first  duty  required  of  him  the  evening  of  their 
arrival  was  that  of  going  in  search  of  Major  Wallis. 
Wallis  might  have  Georgia  affiliations,  but  they  failed, 
somehow,  to  include  Granger.  Wallis  might  be  a 
Southern  sympathizer,  "but  there's  nothing  sympatica 
between  us,"  said  Granger,  to  Miss  Brenham.  It  had 
not  occurred  to  Granger  that,  as  a  soldier,  Wallis  might 
feel  respect  unspeakable  for  soldiers  fighting  gallantly 
for  the  cause  they  had  been  taught  from  babyhood  to 
consider  sacred,  whereas  he  could  feel  no  respect  at  all 
for  men  who  covertly  wore  the  colors  of  that  sacred 
cause,  but  could  not  screw  their  courage  to  the  point  of 
fighting  for  it.  Granger  had  ever  stood  somewhat  in 
awe  of  Wallis,  who  loftily  patronized  him.  He  knew 
that  at  bottom  he  hated  Wallis,  yet  obediently  beamed 
upon  him,  for  such  was  Lorna  Brenham's  wish,  and 
he  dare  not  oppose  her.  He  marveled  much  that  Wallis, 
whom  he  had  secretly  rejoiced  to  hear  of  as  "in  arrest 
and  undergoing  trial,"  should  walk  the  streets  of  Wash- 
ington unchallenged,  even  saluted  by  many  a  soldier, 
while  he,  a  sovereign  citizen,  should  be  questioned.  He 
did  not  understand  that,  now  that  Wallis's  limits  were 


246  A    BROKEN    SWORD. 

extended,  that  gentleman  could  walk  whithersoever  he 
pleased  within  the  boundaries  of  the  capital,  provided 
he  did  not  venture,  unasked,  into  the  presence  or  prem- 
ises of  his  commanding  officer,  and  of  commanding  offi- 
cers there  seemed  to  be  a  number.  Stanton,  indeed, 
would  have  forbidden  him  Willard's,  if  he  could  have 
done  so  without  seeming  to  persecute,  and  thought  it 
most  indecorous  of  Wallis  to  persist  in  Willard's  as 
his  boarding  place.  But  Wallis  had  taken  a  cot  there 
on  the  morning  of  his  arrival  in  July,  and  though,  for 
comfort  and  economy  both,  he  later  secured  a  room  on 
Eighth  Street,  he  refused,  unless  ordered,  to  change  his 
table.  It  was  at  Willard's  Granger  found  him  on  the 
evening  of  their  arrival,  and  found  him,  somewhat  to 
Granger's  surprise,  and  not  at  all  to  his  satisfaction, 
expectant  of  and  prepared  for  his  coming.  Unbe- 
knownst to  the  subservient  and  adoring  messenger, 
therefore,  there  had  been  previous  communication  be- 
tween the  lady  of  his  love  and  the  dashing  soldier. 
Granger  spent  the  evening  in  the  sulks,  listening  half  an 
hour  to  the  general  conversation  between  the  two  ladies 
and  their  brilliant,  versatile  visitor.  Then,  to  his 
further  annoyance,  Miss  Brenham  deliberately  drew  the 
major  into  the  adjoining  room,  a  little  library,  and 
there  conferred  in  low  tone  with  him  as  much  as  twenty 
minutes  without  so  much  as  an  "excuse  me"  to  either 
her  aunt  or  him. 

Nor  did  Granger  like  it  that  his  instructions  required 
of  him  that  he  should  go  with  Major  Wallis  the  follow- 
ing morning  to  find  a  certain  secretary  of  the  French 


"GIVE    HIM    ROPE."  247 

Legation.  The  princes  of  the  House  of  Orleans  had 
been  recalled  and  were  no  longer  with  McClellan;  but 
they  had  bespoken  warm  welcome  for  Wallis  whenso- 
ever he  saw  fit  to  make  his  presence  known,  and  now  it 
was  in  the  power  of  the  minister  to  furnish  information 
of  which  Miss  Brenham's  kindred  stood  in  need. 
"Etiquette,"  said  Wallis,  airily,  "prevents  my  going 
under  existing  circumstances  to  the  legation  itself ;  but 
— ah — we  can  see  the  man  if  not — ah — the  master." 

And  the  legation  secretary  had  been  courtesy  and 
sympathy  personified.  There  was  nothing  the  distin- 
guished Commandant  Wallis  might  ask  that  it  should 
not  be  his,  the  secretary's,  utmost  endeavor  to  obtain. 
As  to  that  let  the  Commandant  be  tranquil — be  assured. 
A  response  should  be  forthcoming  on  the  morrow. 
Meantime,  a  glass  of  wine,  a  health  to  the  gallant  com- 
rade and  entertainer  of  their  Highnesses,  his  brave 
compatriots.  And  so  it  was  after  noonday  when  the 
major,  with  his  Georgia  bred  Gothamite,  arrived  once 
more  within  view  of  the  secret  service  emissary,  still 
"piping"  the  premises  on  upper  "F"  Street. 

A  telegraph  messenger  was  coming  down  the  steps  as 
they  reached  the  house,  some  undelivered  despatches 
still  in  his  hand.  Their  ring  was  not  immediately  an- 
swered, and  Granger  pulled  the  second  time.  The  col- 
ored servant  who  admitted  them  begged  to  be  excused 
for  keeping  the  gentlemen  waiting — Miss  Brenham  had 
just  called  for  a  glass  of  water  at  that  very  moment. 
Miss  Brenham  came  hurriedly  forth  from  the  library  to 
meet  them,  extending  a  shapely  white  hand  to  each,  and 


248  A    BROKEN    SWORD. 

there  were  symptoms  of  excitement,  if  not  agitation, 
in  her  face  and  manner.  Eagerly  she  plunged  into  a 
series  of  quick  questions,  one  on  the  heels  of  another, 
often  without  waiting  for  answer.  She  was  so  impa- 
tient, she  said,  to  hear  the  result  of  their  embassy. 
She  was  so  obviously,  they  saw,  thinking  of  something 
else,  and  Wallis  fathomed  it : — 

"You  have  answer,  I  trust,  to  the  despatch  I  sent  for 
you  last  night?"  he  queried. 

"Yes — and  no.  Mr.  Hoyt  (Miss  Brenham  did  not 
recognize  titles  in  the  Northern  volunteers  and  was  in- 
different to  promotions  in  the  cavalry)  has  not  left  Long 
Branch,  but — had  you  heard  ? — did  you  know  Mr.  Bar- 
clay had  been  exchanged  and  was  to  be  sent  to  Wash- 
ington ?" 

For  once  in  his  life  Jim  Granger  had  the  satisfaction 
and  comfort  of  seeing  Harold  Wallis  startled,  if  not 
staggered.  The  major  stood  one  instant,  turning  gray- 
ish white,  his  fingers  twitching;  but  the  old,  indomitable 
drawl  was  still  there  as  he  answered :  "Quite  possible 
— ah — I  dare  say." 

But  he  quit  the  house  in  less  than  ten  minutes ;  saun- 
tered to  Twentieth  Street ;  turned  the  corner  to  the  left 
and  then  fairly  sped  to  Pennsylvania  Avenue  and  his 
modest  quarters,  a  square  or  two  beyond.  That  night 
was  a  busy  one  among  the  boatmen  down  the  Potomac, 
and  one  skiff,  at  least, — dodging  patrolling  crews,  found 
safe  harbor  below  Mathias  Point  and  so  speeded  an 
energetic  messenger  "On  to  Richmond." 


CHAPTER  XX. 

A    CRUCIAL    INTERVIEW. 

THE  long,  rambling  if  not  ramshackle  tenement 
known  as  Howlands  in  the  early  Sixties,  bore 
faint  resemblance  to  the  so-called  palatial  hostelries  that 
line  the  low  bluff  at  Long  Branch  in  this  day  and  gen- 
eration. It  was  the  summer  abiding  place  of  several 
old  New  York  families,  all  the  same,,  and  some  of  these 
were  staying  through  September.  Mrs.  Rutherford 
and  Ethel  were  still  there,  Hortense  in  attendance  and 
the  habitual  sulks ;  Forbes,  the  assiduous,  coming  down 
each  Saturday  ostensibly  to  assure  himself  that  Mrs. 
Rutherford  and  Miss  Ethel  wanted  for  nothing  that 
his  vigilance  could  supply,  but  actually,  as  Colonel  Ber- 
nard Hoyt  was  not  slow  to  see,  that  he  might  have 
conference  with  Hortense.  Hoyt  could  not  abide  that 
woman.  Ethel,  he  plainly  saw,  was  often  irritated  and 
annoyed  by  her,  once  to  the  extent  of  an  outbreak. 
Hortense  had  dared  to  be  insolent ;  had  dared  her  young 
mistress  to  report,  if  Mademoiselle  pleased,  her  lan- 
guage to  Madame,  her  mother,  and  see  what  would 
come  of  it. 

Few  people  were  left  at  Howlands  at  the  time,  and 
the  French  woman's  raucous  tones  were  distinctly 
audible  through  the  bare  and  echoing  corridors  even  to 

249 


250  A    BROKEN    SWORD. 

Hoyt,  whose  room  was  some  distance  away.  He  had 
seen  and  spoken  with  Ethel  several  times  since  her 
coming,  but  never  alone.  He  had  seen  and  spoken  with 
Mrs.  Rutherford  but  twice,  and  then  only  at  her  urgent 
request  and  for  a  very  few  minutes.  Whatever  the 
cause  of  their  estrangement  it  was  evident  that  the 
colonel  was  in  no  mood  for  reconciliation,  if  that  were 
the  object  the  unhappy  lady  had  in  view,  and  this  was 
the  more  remarkable  since  that  estrangement  had  most 
seriously  affected  Hoyt's  relations  with  Ethel  herself. 
At  the  very  time  when  the  fortunes  of  love  and  war  had 
rolled  their  floodtide  to  his  feet,  when  hope  in  one  and 
preferment  in  the  other  had  joyously  beckoned  him  on, 
something  had  happened,  something  had  been  said  or 
done  in  an  almost  tragic  interview  between  an  imploring 
woman  and  an  aggrieved  and  astounded  soldier  that 
morning  of  the  28th  of  August  that  changed  the  whole 
tenor  of  his  life  and  aspirations.  He  had  gone  to  How- 
lands  about  the  6th  of  September,  because  the  medical 
officer  said  he  must  have  total  rest  and  should  have 
abundant  salt  air.  Howlands  had  been  his  father's 
favorite  resort  in  earlier  days,  so  Howlands  was  chosen. 
He  was  amazed  and  disconcerted  when  told  a  few  days 
later  that  Mrs.  Rutherford,  too,  had  come.  He  had 
eagerly  sought  Ethel's  society  on  every  possible  occa- 
sion hitherto.  Now  he  had  earnestly  sought  to  avoid  it. 
He  would  not  have  come  to  Howlands  at  all  had  he 
thought  Mrs.  Rutherford  would  follow.  He  had  now 
no  home  to  go  to,  and  was  enjoined  by  the  attending 
physician  not  to  think  of  leaving  the  seashore  until  he 


A    CRUCIAL   INTERVIEW.  251 

was  stronger.  Then,  when  he  was  stronger  and  could 
have  gone,  he  overheard  the  defiant  insolence  of  Hor- 
tense  and  now  could  not  think  of  going.  Something 
told  him  Ethel  might  need  help, — protection, — and 
now,  when  he  could  have  thrown  pride  and  scruples  to 
the  wind  and  himself,  unreservedly,  at  her  feet,  she  in 
turn  had  become  cold  and  distant.  Unerringly  had  she 
noted  the  changed  manner  the  moment  they  met,  and, 
though  it  roused  her  pride  and  stirred  resentment  in  her 
heart  against  him,  it  had  more  than  ever  determined 
her  to  wring  from  her  mother's  lips  the  story  of  that 
morning's  interview,  which  had  left  her  mother  pros- 
trate, exhausted  and  in  tears,  and  driven  Hoyt  to  the 
verge  of  brain  fever  and  total  estrangement.  Yet  not 
a  word  of  explanation  had  been  vouchsafed  to  Ethel,  to 
whose  entreaties  and  tears  Mrs.  Rutherford  could  only 
offer  counter  entreaty  and  more  copious  tears.  It  was 
something,  she  said,  that  honor  commanded  _her  to  hold 
as  sacred  for  the  present.  Later  Ethel  should  know  all. 
But,  so  far  as  Hoyt  was  concerned,  the  barriers  were 
swept  away  the  afternoon  Hortense  let  loose  her  tirade. 
He  stumped  up  and  down  the  broad  piazza  a  full  hour, 
impatiently  waiting  for  Ethel  to  come  down,  as  come 
she  had  on  every  afternoon  but  this.  When  five  o'clock 
struck  and  the  last  of  the  bathers,  looking  blue  and 
shivery,  came  up  from  the  beach,  Hoyt  could  stand  the 
strain  no  longer.  Going  to  the  office  he  penned  a  brief 
note  and  sent  it  to  her  room.  The  bell  boy  came  back  in 
two  minutes.  Miss  Rutherford's  compliments  and  re- 
grets. She  was  lying  down  with  a  violent  headache. 


252  A   BROKEN    SWORD. 

Headaches,  as  a  rule,  are  but  transitory  things.  Two 
days  later,  by  which  time  the  crutches  had  been  dis- 
pensed with  and  Hoyt  was  hobbling  with  a  stick,  Ethel 
appeared,  pale  and  languid,  and  was  surrounded 
speedily  by  the  few  women  flitting  about  the  piazza. 
She  knew  he  was  there  and  would  come  as  soon  as  the 
circle  broke,  so  she  kept  that  circle  about  her.  But  she 
did  not  know  him  yet.  He  came  unflinchingly  before 
them  all,  and  held  forth  his  thin,  white  hand  and  said : 
"I,  too,  am  glad  you  are  here  again,  and  I  have  come  to 
beg  a  few  words  as  soon  as  you  are  at  liberty.  I  may 
have  to  go  at  any  moment  now."  It  was  the  broadest 
hint  to  be  off  the  surrounding  group  had  ever  heard, 
but  they  heeded  and  saw  and  forgave  and  made  way, 
and  presently  the  two  were  alone,  a  pair  of  almost  col- 
orless faces  and  two  pairs  of  cold,  nerveless  hands. 
Bernard  Hoyt  would  rather  have  faced  Pelham's  guns 
again  at  short  range  than  the  look  in  those  clear,  blue, 
resentful  eyes. 

"Forgive  me  for  this  appeal,  when  you  have  so  much 
to  worry  you,"  he  said,  leaning  heavily  on  his  hickory 
cane.  He  had  moved  toward  a  vacant  settee,  but  she 
would  not  sit — so  he  was  forced  to  stand.  "I  am  almost 
well  enough  to  ride  if  not  to  walk,  and  any  moment  now 
may  be  going  back  to  the  regiment  and  to  Gerald.  Two 
days  ago  I  was  eager.  That  afternoon  I  heard  distinctly 
that  abominable  French  woman's  insolence  and  defiance. 
— No,  do  not  let  that  give  you  fresh  trouble!"  he 
hastened  to  say,  for  she  had' started  and  colored  at  the 
abrupt  announcement.  "Try  to  remember  I  have  known 


A   CRUCIAL   INTERVIEW.  253 

you  almost  since  your  babyhood,  Ethel;  that  I  was 
Ralph's  chum  and  friend ;  that  I  am  Gerald's  friend  and 
fellow  soldier,  and  try  to  see  that  though  I  can  have  no 
other  claim,  these  are  in  themselves  reasons  why  I  can- 
not leave  you  when  something  tells  me  you  are  threat- 
ened,— that  this  creature  believes  she  has  some  hold  on 
your  mother  that  gives  her  power  over  you.  She  is  one 
of  that  class  and  race  of  human  fiends  that  gloried  in 
their  torture  of  the  gentle  born  in  the  days  of  the  guil- 
lotine. Ralph  distrusted  her  years  ago.  Gerald  dis- 
trusts her  now.  You  have  been  made  the  victim  of  her 
malevolence,  and  yet  she  remains  here  in  your  mother's 
employ.  Have  you  not  told  her?" 

"Mother  is  too  ill  to  be  agitated,"  was  the  answer, 
as  Ethel  stood  there  facing  him,  cold  and  unbending. 
"We  have  been  accustomed  to  the  vagaries  of  Hortense 
for  years.  She  is  all  contrition  now.  There — there  is 
not  the  least  occasion,  Colonel  Hoyt,  for  your  remaining 
— so  far  as — we  are  concerned,"  and  with  this  magnifi- 
cent piece  of  mendacity  on  her  lips,  Miss  Ethel's  blue 
eyes  blazed  squarely  into  those  of  the  wounded  trooper, 
— doubly  wounded  now,  and  she  half  turned  as  though 
to  say  the  interview  was  ended,  but  he  spoke  again : — 

"You  are  angry,  and  I  am — helpless,  Ethel.  You 
were  angered  at  me  because  I  could  not  tell  you  last  year 
about  Forno  and  Ralph  and  Wallis.  I  did  not  know 
enough  to  speak.  Now  you  are  angered  when  other  and 
graver  reasons  compel  my  silence.  Your  mother  has  my 
promise,  and  not  until  she  releases  me,  hard  though  it 
be,  can  I  speak.  You  say  truly,  probably,  that  there  is 


254  A   BROKEN    SWORD. 

no  occasion  for  my  remaining.  Forgive  me,  then,  that 
I  intruded.  Not  until  your  mother  told  me — did  I  begin 
to  realize  how — unwelcome  my  presence  must  have 
been  to  you.  It  shall  be  my  duty,  of  course,  to  see  Major 
Wallis  before  I  return  to  the  front  and  tender  every 
amende  in  my  power.  Good  bye." 

Abruptly  he  turned  and  left  her — left  her  standing 
staring  after  him  in  amazement.  Off  to  the  eastward 
the  blue  waves  were  dancing,  capped  with  snow  under 
the  glorious  landward  breeze.  Noisy  children  were 
chasing  gleefully  along  the  bluffs.  Maids  and  matrons, 
— just  a  few  lingerers,  but  all  the  house  contained, — 
were  grouped  about  the  wooden  veranda,  covertly,  yet 
curiously  watching  the  pair.  What  woman  at  How- 
lands  did  not  plainly  see  and  know  the  soldier's  passion- 
ate love  for  Ethel  Rutherford?  What  one  of  their 
number  did  not  thoroughly  realize  that  this  was  a 
crucial  interview  and  one  by  no  means  to  be  either 
interrupted — or  missed ! .  A  colored  boy,  hurrying  from 
the  office  with  a  telegram  on  a  tray,  was  hailed  by  one 
of  the  wisest  of  these  veterans  in  the  art  of  love  and 
match-making.  "For  Colonel  Hoyt?"  she  asked. 
Then,  seeing  assent  in  the  waiter's  eyes,  spoke  com- 
mandingly.  "Not  yet,  on  any  account!"  and  held  him, 
obedient  and  unquestioning.  Then  it  was  that  Hoyt 
finished  his  few  sad  words,  and  finishing,  turned  and 
limped  painfully  away.  But  for  the  heavy  thumping 
of.  the  heart  within  his  breast  and  the  stout  hickory  cane 
upon  the  resounding  wooden  floor,  he  might  have  heard 
the  gasp,  the  faint,  barely  articulate  cry  with  which  she 


A    CRUCIAL   INTERVIEW.  255 

strove  to  detain  him  when,  after  a  brief  moment  of 
stupefaction  her  senses  seemed  returning.  What  could 
he  possibly  mean  ?  "Not  until  her  mother  told  him  had 
he  realized  that  his  presence  was  unwelcome."  "Going 
to  Washington  to  seek  Major  Wallis  to  tender  further 
amende."  What  in  heaven's  name  could  he  mean? 
"Colonel  Hoyt — Bernard !"  she  strove  to  say.  But  the 
voice  refused  its  office.  She  could  not  speak  aloud,  and 
then,  when  she  would  have  followed,  there  sat  all  those 
women,  those  hateful,  spying  women.  There  stood  the 
negro  servant  with  that  fateful,  lacquered  tray.  She 
kneiv  it  was  a  telegram  before  the  boy  started  forward 
to  deliver  it.  She  saw  the  colonel  take  and  tear  it  open ; 
saw  him  hurriedly  read  it  through;  pause  one  instant; 
glance  irresolutely  toward  the  silent,  expectant  watchers 
beyond ;  then,  as  though  dreading  question  or  comment, 
saw  him  turn  sharply  to  his  left  and  disappear  through 
one  of  the  long  windows  that  opened  to  the  veranda. 
Then  came  Hortense.  "Would  Mademoiselle  attend 
Madame  at  once?  Madame  had  received  letters  from 
Washington."  Ah,  there  were  other  reasons  now  why 
the  girl  was  most  eager  to  attend  Madame, — reasons 
that  kept  her  closeted  long  hours  with  the  complaining 
invalid  and  that  prevented  her  knowing  until  too  late 
that  the  colonel  left  that  very  afternoon  for  New  York, 
and  that  Forbes,  the  invaluable  butler,  had  come,  and, 
turning  about,  had  gone  within  the  hour  of  his  coming, 
so  as  to  take  the  same  boat  that  bore  Bernard  Hoyt. 

Three  days  thereafter  there  was  a  meeting  and  a  con- 
sultation in  Baltimore  that  called  to  the  monumental 


256  A    BROKEN    SWORD. 

city  an  assortment  from  our  dramatis  persona?  little  to 
be  looked  for  under  existing  circumstances  and  the  same 
roof.  The  Honorable  Beverly  Hanson  had  met  with 
an  accident  that  seriously  lamed  him  and  prevented  his 
going  to  Washington  when  next  needed  by  his  distin- 
guished client,  Major  Wallis.  Hanson  had  sprained 
his  ankle  and  been  relegated  to  the  sofa  by  day,  and 
warned  to  attend  to  only  such  business  as  could  be  trans- 
acted quietly  at  his  home.  The  War  Secretary  was 
properly  indignant,  yet  expressed  himself  by  no  means 
surprised,  that  Major  WTallis  should  request  permission 
to  spend  forty-eight  hours  in  Baltimore  for  the  purpose 
of  consulting  with  his  counsel  who  would  be  unable  to 
come  to  Washington  for  at  least  a  fortnight.  The  Sec- 
retary's immediate  impulse  was  to  reply,  Not  by  any 
means.  But  the  request  was  backed  by  senators  who 
said  the  impression  had  gone  forth  that  Wallis  was  a 
persecuted  saint ;  that  he  was  innocent  of  all  the  charges 
against  him  and  was  being  held  in  limbo  through  the 
malignity  of  the  War  Department.  "Better  let  him  go." 
"Give  him  more  rope,"  again  said  one  of  the  advisers, 
so,  grumblingly,  Stanton  did  as  advised  and  Major 
Wallis  received  the  requisite  authority  which  required 
him,  however,  to  report  himself  in  person  to  the  com- 
manding officer  of  the  garrison  on  arriving  at  and 
before  leaving  Baltimore;  and  that  officer  received  in- 
structions to  closely  observe  the  major's  comings  and 
goings.  So  did  the  secret  service. 

Was  it  accident  or  design  that,  about  that  same  time, 
Lorna  Brenham,  with  her  attendant  aunt  and  cavalier. 


A    CRUCIAL    INTERVIEW.  257 

left  Washington  for  Baltimore,  and  all  were  presently 
welcomed  in  the  mansions  of  certain  old  residents 
known  to  be  ardent  Southern  sympathizers,  all  within 
a  square  or  so  of  the  distinguished  lawyer's  homestead  ? 
They  were  assembled  in  the  Hansons'  library  the  second 
evening  of  Wallis's  brief  stay,  gathered  in  laughing, 
jubilant  chat  about  the  sofa  of  the  great  Southern  jurist. 
The  cause  of  the  South,  despite  Lee's  leisurely  with- 
drawal to  Virginia,  whither  McClellan  would  not  pur- 
sue, seemed  abundantly  hopeful.  All  Baltimore  was 
talking  over  the  discomfiture  of  Halleck  and  Stanton, 
for  McClellan,  as  usual,  thought  it  no  fault  of  his,  but 
all  theirs.  It  wasn't  the  kind  of  talk  officers  in  Union 
blue  were  supposed  to  relish  or  even  patiently  to  hear, 
but,  despite  Wallis's  presence,  it  went  on  uninterrupt- 
edly for  nearly  half  an  hour,  Miss  Brenham  holding 
forth  with  her  accustomed  brilliancy.  But  silence  and 
surprise  fell  upon  the  assembled  party  when  the  white- 
haired  major  domo  entered,  and,  bowing  before  his 
master's  recumbent  form,  held  forth  the  silver  salver 
that  had  done  duty  in  the  household  since  early  Colonial 
days.  Thereon  lay  a  single  card.  Still  laughing  over 
•Lorna's  latest  sally,  Hanson  took  the  card  and  read 
aloud:  "Colonel  Bernard  Hoyt,  — th  New  York 
Cavalry."  ' 

Mrs.  de  Ruyter  instantly  arose  and  signalled  her 
niece.  "Don't  go! — don't  go!"  protested  Hanson. 
"Why  shouldn't  you  see  him, — all  of  you?  I  have 
learned  to  honor  this  man,  though  I  cannot  imagine 
why  he  should  be  here!" 


258  A    BROKEN    SWORD. 

"I  will  step  into  the  parlor,  sir,"  said  Wallis,  rising. 
"It — is  possible  he  is — seeking  me.  I  had  an  intimation 
two  days  ago." 

There  was  an  interesting  tableau  as  Colonel  Hoyt  ap- 
peared under  the  curtains  at  the  arched  entrance  to  the 
cozy  old  library.  In  the  soft  glow  from  the  lamps  on 
the  mantel  and  table,  stood  Lorna  Brenham,  tall,  dark 
and  triumphantly  beautiful,  smiling  saucy  welcome 
upon  the  intruder,  from  the  foot  of  Hanson's  couch. 
At  her  left  and  a  little  back  among  the  shadows,  hovered 
Granger,  neither  smiling  nor  content.  In  her  easy- 
chair,  portly  and  self-satisfied,  as  became  a  de  Ruyter, 
sat  the  chaperon,  her  eyes  on  the  newcomer,  as  he 
bowed  low  to  the  lady  of  the  house,  who  had  swept 
gracefully,  graciously  forward  to  bid  him  welcome. 
Under  the  curtain,  shutting  off  the  parlor,  stood  in  the 
dark  background,  Major  Wallis,  silent  and  observant. 

"I  trust  I  may  be  pardoned  this  intrusion,"  began 
Hoyt,  his  voice  telling  at  once  of  constraint, — even  of 
distress  of  mind, — telling  of  a  trying  duty  that  had  to 
be  discharged,  come  what  might.  "I  am  sorry  to  see 
Judge  Hanson  so  crippled ;  but  I  must  go  on  to  Wash- 
ington at  ten  o'clock,  and — they  told  me  Major  Wallis 
was  here,"  and  Hoyt  glanced  about  him,  inquiringly. 

"He  is  here,  and  you  are  most  welcome,  Colonel 
Hoyt.  Pray  come  over  and  let  me  shake  hands  with 
you,  for  I  cannot  rise.  My  daughter,  Miss  Hanson; 
Colonel  Hoyt — Mrs.  de  Ruyter.  Miss  Brenham  you 
know, — and  Mr.  Granger,  of  course.  Wallis  will  be 
with  us  in  a  moment." 


A    CRUCIAL    INTERVIEW.  259 

Obediently  yet  slowly,  Hoyt  came  forward,  leaning 
heavily  still  upon  his  cane.  He  had  bowed  to  and 
shaken  hands  with  Miss  Hanson ;  then  with  her  father ; 
then  had  turned  to  answer  briefly  Miss  Brenham's  half 
laughing,  half  defiant  challenge,  and  was  then  bowing 
to  Mrs.  de  Ruyter  and  coldly  and  formally,  to  Granger 
when  presently  again  the  old  butler  entered  with  his 
silver  tray. 

"I  can't  see  anybody  else  just  now,"  began  Hanson, 
impatiently.  "However,  I'll  look  at  the  card.  What ! 
Lieutenant  Edward  Clayton  Barclay,  —  U.  S.  In- 
fantry! Is  the  gentleman  there  in  the  hall?" 

" Yeas  suh ;  drove  up  in  a  carriage  just  after  the  colo- 
nel came.  He  asked  especially,  suh,  if  Major  Wallis, 
too,  was  hyuh." 

"Well,  of  all  the  extraordinary  things !  Wallis,  did 
you  hear  this  ?"  and  with  lowered  voice  the  crippled  host 
turned  to  accost  the  tall  officer  coming  forward  into 
the  light,  with  eyes  that  glittered  and  a  face  visibly 
pale.  Hoyt,  his  back  to  the  entrance,  his  hand  still 
extended  to  Mrs.  de  Ruyter,  looked  up  in  surprise;  then, 
catching  sight  of  Wallis's  white  face,  dropped  his  hand 
and  stood  gazing  at  him.  Then,  in  the  midst  of  the 
strange  silence  that  had  fallen  on  the  entire  party,  a 
springy  step  was  heard  on  the  marble  tiling  of  the  hall- 
way, and  a  cheery,  boyish  voice,  at  sound  of  which 
Wallis  started  as  though  shot.  The  curtains  were 
thrown  aside,  and,  in  the  uniform  of  a  lieutenant  of  the 
national  army,  there  came  striding  joyously,  confidently, 
daringly  into  the  room  not  Ned  Barclay,  not  an  officer 


260  A    BROKEN    SWORD. 

of  the  United  States,  but  a  soldier  of  the  rebellious  and 
defiant  South,  and  lame  as  he  was,  Bernard  Hoyt 
whirled  about  at  sound  of  the  gasping,  almost  agonized 
cry  that  broke  from  the  bloodless  lips  of  Harold 
Wallis  :— 

"Eugene,  Eugene,  are  you  mad!" 


CHAPTER   XXL 

IN    DEFENSE    OF    A    BROTHER. 

LONG  as  he  lives  Bernard  Hoyt  will  never  forget 
that  night,  even  though  part  of  it  was  passed  in 
oblivion.  For  one  brief  moment  after  ,the  major's 
startled  cry  a  silence  as  of  amaze  seemed  to  have  fallen 
on  the  assembled  party — a  paralysis,  partly  of  terror, 
that  held  some  of  their  number  spellbound.  It  might 
be  impossible  to  say  who  was  first  to  regain  control  of 
his  or  her  faculties.  Lorna  Brenham  and  Colonel  Hoyt, 
however,  were  the  first  to  move.  The  woman's  in- 
tuition and  her  year's  experience  in  many  a  scene  that 
tried  her  wit  and  nerve,  were  quick  to  show  her  the 
peril  of  Eugene's  position.  A  Confederate  officer  in 
Union  uniform,  under  false  name,  with  false  papers — 
what  could  it  mean  but  that  he  was  a  spy,  and,  once 
captured  in  that  garb  and  under  that  name,  what  could 
it  lead  to  but  death  ?  Oh,  she  knew,  well  she  knew — 
for  many  a  desperate  plan  had  been  discussed  in  her 
presence — and  well  she  understood  the  fearful  nature 
of  this  mad  attempt.  Escape  at  any  cost,  in  any  direc- 
tion, was  her  first  thought  for  him,  and  with  that  in 
view,  she  sprang  like  startled  deer  swift  to  his  side, 
to  lead  him  forth  before  Hoyt  could  move  to  hinder. 
But  already  Hoyt,  too,  had  roused,  and  with  blazing 
eyes  and  face  almost  white  with  the  intensity  of  his 

261 


262  A    BROKEN    SWORD. 

purpose,  had  started  forward,  one  hand  extended  as 
though  to  clutch  the  throat  of  the  mad  venturer  within 
the  lines,  the  other,  alas,  hampered  with  the  heavy  cane, 
without  which  walking  was  still  impossible.  Together 
and  almost  at  the  same  instant  they  bore  down  upon  the 
disturber,  standing  there  now  livid  and  trembling,  for 
he,  too,  had  suddenly  seen — realized — his  peril  and  the 
awful  cost.  And  then  in  his  extremity,  in  mad  and 
frantic  impulse  to  rid  himself  of  the  one  hostile  witness 
to  his  soldier  crime,  heedless  of  where  he  stood  or  by 
whom  he  was  surrounded,  deaf  to  Hanson's  warning 
shout,  to  Lorna  Brenham's  low,  vehement  cry,  to 
Nathalie  Hanson's  half  stifled  shriek,  he  whipped  his 
pistol  from  the  ready  holster  and,  but  for  the  spring  of 
that  splendid  Southern  girl  and  the  swift,  frenzied 
clutch  of  her  jeweled  white  hands,  the  navy  Colt  would 
then  and  there  have  spoken  a  Union  trooper's  death  war- 
rant. Over  went  the  costly  library  lamp  as,  with  the 
leap  of  a  panther,  Lorna  Brenham  hurled  herself  upon 
him,  her  long,  slender  ringers,  with  a  marvel  of  nervous, 
sinewy  strength,  lacing  about  his  shaking  grasp.  Down 
came  the  blue-sleeved  arm,  swift  almost  as  it  rose. 
Down  came  the  vengeful  hammer  at  the  mad  pull  of  the 
trigger,  but  never  reached  the  gleaming  copper  of  the 
fresh-capped  cone.  The  sharp  circular  rim  cut  a  cruel, 
purple  groove  into  the  fair  skin,  but  never  loosed  the 
firm,  fearless  hold.  "Give  it  me,  instantly,"  she  de- 
manded, fierce  and  commanding,  her  words  almost 
hissing  between  her  set  teeth,  her  dark  eyes  flashing  in 
the  intensity  of  the  struggle.  Insensibly,  mechanically, 


IN    DEFENSE    OF    A    BROTHER.        263 

he  released  his  grasp,  and  she  sent  the  weapon  spinning 
toward  the  hall.  It  caught  in  the  folds  of  the  heavy 
damask  at  the  archway,  and  fell  harmless  into  the  depths 
of  the  furred  rug  beneath.  Even  then  her  work  was 
but  half  done.  Quick  as  before,  she  sprang  in  front 
of  the  trembling  youth,  between  him  and  the  menacing 
soldier  of  the  Union,  and  the  hand  that  hurled  the 
pistol  aside,  flew  almost  into  Hoyt's  stern,  set  face, 
palm  foremost,  warning  him  back. 

"Stop !"  she  cried.  "I  saved  your  life,  Colonel  Hoyt ! 
You  owe  something  to  me.  Stop !"  Yet  recoil  she  had 
to,  a  step  before  his  determination  stride.  "Stop! 
Hear  me!"  she  repeated.  And  now  stop  he  had  to, 
or  force  her  rudely  back. 

"It  is  my  duty,"  he  began,  but  got  no  further.  Find- 
ing himself  screened,  yet  disarmed,  young  Wallis  made 
a  leap  for  the  fallen  Colt;  but,  even  as  he  stooped  to 
seize  it,  again  she  was  upon  him.  "How  dare  you, 
Eugene !  You  would  hang  us  all — all !  You  fool ! 
You  idiot!"  Then  a  second  time  she  grasped  him; 
again  she  turned  and  confronted  Hoyt,  again  painfully 
hobbling  toward  her.  "Oh,  you  won't  be  warned !"  she 
cried.  Then,  "Yes — that's  right ! — quick ! — Jim  Gran- 
ger, if  you're  not  a  coward,  help  Major  Wallis !" 

There  was  a  moment  of  fearful  struggle.  Springing 
from  behind,  Harold  Wallis  had  thrown  his  right  arm 
about  the  colonel's  throat,  while  the  left  encircled  the 
body,  pinning  the  trooper's  left  arm  to  his  side.  Down 
went  the  cane  with  a  crash,  as  Hoyt  struck  furiously 
with  clinched  right  fist  over  the  left  shoulder  at  his 


264  A    BROKEN    SWORD. 

captor's  face.  Mrs.  de  Ruyter,  all  dignity  forgotten, 
uttered  a  squawk  of  fright  and  dismay,  and  collapsed 
in  her  big  chair.  Mr.  Hanson,  vainly  striving  to  make 
himself  heard,  had  struggled  to  his  one  unbandaged 
foot  and,  enfolded  by  his  shrinking  daughter's  arm, 
clung  to  the  back  of  the  lounge  with  one  hand  and 
reached  impotently  toward  the  swaying  wrestlers  with 
the  other.  All  too  soon  was  the  fierce  grapple  ended. 
Forgetful,  in  the  rage  of  conflict,  Hoyt  threw  his  weight 
upon  the  wounded  leg.  It  gave  way  under  him  and 
down  they  went  with  fearsome  force  upon  the  floor, 
Hoyt's  forehead  striking  the  sharp  corner  of  the  old 
Colonial  sofa  as  he  plunged  forward — and  that  ended 
it  all.  The  blood  was  spurting  from  an  awful  gash  in 
the  white  temple  as  the  now  nerveless  arms  relaxed 
their  hold  and  the  Union  soldier  lay  there,  prostrate, 
senseless,  sorestricken,  while  his  brother  officer  in  the 
Union  blue  slowly  found  his  feet  and,  with  clinching 
hands,  with  heaving  chest,  with  quivering,  pallid, 
dreadful  face,  stood  gazing  down  upon  the  ruin  he  had 
wrought,  seeing  unerringly  that,  crushed  and  humbled 
as  was  his  rival  now,  there  had  come  at  last  to  him,  the 
victor,  a  ruin  infinitely  greater — the  utter  wreck  and 
ruin  of  his  whole  career. 

Again  the  awful  silence  was  broken  by  Lorna  Bren- 
ham's  voice.  That  woman  should  have  been  riding 
with  Lee  and  Jackson,  mailed,  helmeted  and  spurred— 
the  Jeanne  d'Arc  of  the  Southern  cause.  "Go  for 
water,  sponges,  towels — quick !"  she  ordered  Granger. 
"No.  Don't  let  the  butler  in !  Eugene,  go  to  Mr.  Han- 


IN    DEFENSE    OF   A    BROTHER.       265 

son's  room  and  get  out  of  that  uniform  at  once !"  Then 
down  on  her  knees  she  went  before  them  all,  beside 
the  fallen  man;  and,  after  one  quick,  searching  look 
into  the  pallid  face,  glanced  up  into  the  haggard  eyes  of 
him,  who,  still  erect,  had  yet  fallen,  as  reason  told  him, 
beyond  all  hope  of  ever  standing  again  a  trusted  soldier 
of  the  flag. 

A  little  later,  as  Hoyt  lay,  at  intervals  feebly  moan- 
ing on  the  broad  bed  in  Hanson's  own  room — a  large 
chamber  adjoining  the  library  on  the  parlor  floor 2  there 
had  been  brief,  hurried  conference  in  which  once  more 
it  was  Lorna  Brenham  whose  nerve  and  will  and  keen, 
quick  wit  had  made  her  the  guiding  spirit,  for  even  the 
renowned  lawyer  seemed  stunned  and  appalled  at  the 
magnitude  of  the  catastrophe  that  had  beset  them. 
White,  stern  and  self  repressed,  Harold  Wallis  had  but 
little  to  say.  What  was  there  to  say?  He,  a  Union 
officer,  had  assaulted  and  crushed  a  comrade  who,  in 
the  discharge  of  soldier  duty,  was  striving  to  arrest  an 
armed  enemy  of  the  United  States  in  the  garb  and 
guise  of  its  own  defenders,  and,  under  the  law,  nothing 
less  than  a  spy.  One  of  two  things  had  Harold  Wallis 
to  do  and  do  quickly:  either  aid  in  the  arrest  of  his 
own  brother,  the  traitor  to  his  country's  cause,  or  else 
aid  in  the  escape  of  that  brainless,  reckless  lad — the 
little  Benjamin  of  the  father's  love — that  honored  and 
beloved  father's  last  charge  to  him,  to  Harold,  to  his 
first  born,  to  his  hope  and  pride  and  strength — that 
beloved  father  whose  own  life  had  gone  out  gloriously 
in  battle  for  the  stars  and  stripes — whose  pleading  face, 


266  A    BROKEN    SWORD. 

*. 
whose  parting  words,  even  in  that  supreme  moment 

when  instant  action  was  demanded  of  the  son,  had 
blinded  the  eyes,  had  deadened  the  ears  of  a  proud  and 
sensitive  soldier  to  the  cause  of  soldier  duty,  and  baffled 
and  broken  and  damned  him,  a  recreant  to  a  soldier's 
trust.  What,  indeed,  was  there  left  to  say  ?  What  now 
could  he  ever  do  to  undo  this  foul  blot  on  his  record  ? — 
this  wretched  night's  work?  Nothing!  Ended  for 
good  and  all  was  the  career  he  loved.  But  at  least  he 
could  face  his  father  when  they  met  beyond  the  grave 
— there  was  yet  time  to  save  the  brother. 

Little  indeed  did  that  shallow  hearted  boy  deserve 
the  infinite  effort.  Like  other  spoiled  and  petted  chil- 
dren, seeing  the  fearsome  plight  into  which  his  mad 
folly  had  plunged  them  all,  it  suited  his  humor  now 
to  play  the  role  of  injured  innocence — to  relapse  into 
sulky,  sullen,  exasperating  mood  under  the  lash  of 
Lorna  Brenham's  furious  tongue.  Fool,  dolt,  idiot 
she  had  called  him,  even  as  she  plied  sponge  and 
towels  over  the  prostrate  head  of  Bernard  Hoyt. 
How  dare  he  take  such  senseless  risk?  What  pos- 
sible good  did  he  expect  to  accomplish?  What 
earthly  object  had  he  in  this  desperate  masquerade? 
Risk?  he  answered,  hotly.  Had  not  Harold  sent 
word  that  at  all  hazards  Ned  Barclay's  exchange 
must  be  stopped?  It  couldn't  be  stopped!  It  was 
an  accomplished  fact!  The  exchange  had  been  or- 
dered before  Harold's  cipher  letter  came.  But, 
though  that  exchange  could  not  be  stopped,  Barclay 
might  be,  provided  "men  of  nerve  and  resource" 


IN    DEFENSE    OF    A    BROTHER.       267 

would  but  try  it.  "I  shouldn't  have  been  my  father's 
son,"  said  Eugene,  proudly,  "if  I  hadn't  tried." 
Magruder  helped  him.  Magruder  gave  him  com- 
mand of  the  guard  that  was  to  take  Barclay  and  a 
dozen  other  sick  and  exchanged  officers,  strangers  to 
Barclay  and  mostly  to  each  other,  in  the  steamer  down 
the  James.  The  rest  was  easy.  Renshaw  went  with 
them  as  doctor — a  daring  young  scion  of  the  South. 
Renshaw  had  been  shown  Harold's  desperate  letter 
to  "Forno,"  now  colonel  of  artillery  commanding  the 
defenses  about  Drewry's  Bluff.  Renshaw  "pre- 
scribed" for  Barclay,  who  was  weak  and  ailing;  put 
him  to  sleep  in  his,  the  doctor's  own  stateroom  under 
a  strong  narcotic;  stripped  him  of  his  uniform  and 
papers  and  sent  him  ashore  by  night  to  be  cared  for 
by  friends  near  Norfolk  until  this  thing  blew  over. 
Then  Eugene  donned  the  uniform  and  all;  was  aided 
from  the  doctor's  stateroom  to  the  gangplank,  and, 
stepping  from  one  boat  to  another  in  Hampton 
Roads,  was  landed,  all  unknown  and  unsuspected,  at 
Fort  McHenry  that  very  evening,  and  here  he  was, 
the  hero,  in  his  own  eyes,  of  a  stupendous  sensation, 
and  only  just  awakening  to  the  consciousness  of  his 
crime. 

No  time  to  talk  of  that  now!  Action — action  was 
what  was  needed.  Escape  was  the  instant  thought, 
and  what  hope  was  there  of  that?  Peering  through 
the  parlor  blinds,  Major  Wallis  had  sighted  a  stout- 
built  man  in  civilian  garb  questioning  the  coachman. 
He  knew  what  that  meant.  The  house  was  watched 


268  A    BROKEN    SWORD. 

so  long  as  he  and  they  remained.  It  was  Lorna  who 
solved  the  problem  and  planned  the  move.  Miss 
Hanson  and  her  aunt  feebly,  tremulously,  but  all  un- 
questioning— aiding  her.  Anodyne  was  administered 
to  Hoyt  as  he  began  to  show  faint  symptoms  of  re- 
turning consciousness.  Eugene  was  bundled  into  an 
adjoining  room  and  bidden  to  shave  at  once  his  bud- 
ding moustache — the  fool  of  a  lad  would  even  have 
rebelled  at  that — then  made  to  doff  boots  and  uni- 
form; to  don  certain  voluminous  skirts  over  a  spare 
"skeleton" — a  species  of  feminine  wire  entanglement 
the  like  of  which  he  had  never  tried  before.  A  loose 
dressing  sacque  completed  the  upper  section.  A 
flounced  skirt  of  tulle — a  discarded  ball  dress  of  Miss 
Hanson's — was  fastened  about  his  waist.  Then,  with 
Lorna's  sortie  du  bal — her  especial  pride,  a  costly 
fabric  fetched  from  Paris  the  winter  before  the  war 
— shrouding  Eugene  from  shoulder  to  heel,  and  his 
head  done  up  in  veiling,  he  was  hurried  forth  to  the 
carriages,  Granger  and  Mrs.  de  Ruyter  in  speechless 
attendance,  although  it  was  made  to  appear  that  it 
was  Mrs.  de  Ruyter  who  required  support.  Then  he 
was  driven  with  them  to  the  home  of  the  Courtnay 
Soutter's,  to  which  hospitably  Southern  and  sympa- 
thetic household,  Miss  Brenham  and  that  very  docile 
aunt  had  been  making  their  visit.  Half  an  hour  later 
the  carnage  returned  and  Granger  assisted  a  slender 
form  in  that  same  sortie  du  bal  up  the  steps  and  into 
the  house,  under  the  gaze  of  the  sauntering  secret 
service  personage,  but  it  was  Miss  Brenham's  maid, 


IN    DEFENSE    OF   A    BROTHER.       269 

own  sister  to  Hortense,  who  then  emerged  from  that 
comprehensive  cloak,  Mrs.  de  Ruyter  and  Eugene 
having  been  left  on  neutral  and,  thus  far,  unguarded 
ground. 

But  still  much  more  had  to  be  done.  Hanson's 
own  carriage  was  ordered  in  readiness  forthwith. 
The  stables  opened  on  an  alley-way,  but  stood  direct- 
ly in  rear  of  and  communicating  with  the  house.  Into 
that  carriage  Bernard  Hoyt,  his  head  in  bandages, 
his  senses  in  a  stupor,  was  borne  by  Wallis,  Granger 
and  the  footman.  The  coachman,  an  old  and  devoted 
family  servant,  silently  received  his  instructions  and 
drove  away  with  his  drowsy  burden  inside  and  a  let- 
ter to  a  certain  client  of  Judge  Hanson's  who  dwelt 
far  out  on  the  old  Liberty  Road.  Going  through  the 
alley  to  the  opposite  side  of  the  square,  this  carriage 
escaped  the  scrutiny  of  the  single  official  in  front  of 
the  house.  His  two  aids  were  unluckily  around  the 
corner  at  the  adjoining  street.  What  now  remained 
was  to  provide  for  Eugene's  return  to  the  Confeder- 
ate lines.  It  could  not  be  long  before  "murder  would 
out,"  and,  Barclay  being  missing,  search  be  made. 
With  the  blood  on  the  parlor  rug  mopped  up  and  signs 
of  struggle  removed,  with  Eugene  and  Hoyt  both 
safely  trundled  away,  Lorna  feared  not  any  visit  that 
might  be  made  by  suspicious  provost  guardsmen  now. 
But  on  the  morrow  Major  Wallis  was  due  at  Wash- 
ington. What  then  must  become  of  Eugene? 

Two  carriages,  as  has  been  said,  had  stopped  in 
front  of  the  Hanson  House  that  starlit  October  even- 


270  A    BROKEN    SWORD. 

ing;  one  discharging  an  officer  in  the  uniform  of  a 
colonel  of  Union  cavalry,  who  moved  with  difficulty 
and  by  the  aid  of  a  heavy  cane;  the  other,  arriving 
barely  three  minutes  later,  had  been  bidden  to  wait 
by  the  young  gallant  in  the  garb  of  a  lieutenant  of 
regulars,  who  fairly  sprang  across  the  stone  pave- 
ment and  up  the  marbled  steps  to  the  front  door. 
Coachman  Number  One  was  exchanging  confidences 
regarding  their  respective  fares  with  his  brother  of 
the  second  hack,  and  commenting  on  the  contrast  be- 
tween the  halting  movements  of  the  one  and  the  light 
and  agile  spring  of  the  other,  when  a  stout  built,  lit- 
tle civilian  sauntered  up  under  the  gaslight  and  began 
to  ask  questions — a  thing  the  average  hackman  wel- 
comes, because  it  gives  him  opportunity  to  be  im- 
pudent. The  newcomer  wished  to  be  told  where 
coachee  had  picked  up  his  passenger,  and  who  he 
was,  and  was  getting  some  inconsequent  reply  when 
there  came  that  sudden  sound  as  of  struggle  within 
the  mansion,  and  the  parlor  lights  as  suddenly  went 
down. 

Whatever  the  cause,  the  excitement  was  appar- 
ently short  lived.  The  sounds  had  stopped  as  sud- 
denly as  they  began.  All  three  men  thought  they 
heard  a  stifled  scream,  a  heavy  fall;  and  the  stout 
civilian  had  been  visibly  and  keenly  interested.  He 
tripped  away  swiftly  to  the  street  corner  as  ,silence 
fell  again,  but  returned  almost  immediately,  and  was 
still  there  when  about  9  o'clock  the  front  door  opened, 
and  a  young  man  in  evening  dress,  a  young  woman 


IN    DEFENSE    OF    A    BROTHER.       271 

hooded  and  mantled,  came  down  the  steps  support- 
ing an  elderly  lady.  The  old  colored  butler,  follow- 
ing, asked  which  was  Mr.  Barclay's  carriage,  bade 
the  driver  take  them  to  the  residence  of  Mr.  Court- 
nay  Soutter,  a  few  squares  distant,  and  the  three  were 
swallowed  up  in  the  dark  depths  of  the  hack  and 
driven  away.  Again  did  the  alert  little  civilian  skip 
to  the  corner  and  say  something  to  somebody  in  wait- 
ing in  the  dim  light  of  the  side  street,  and  return  to 
his  station.  In  less  than  half  an  hour  the  carriage 
returned;  so  did  the  young  gentleman  in  evening 
dress,  and  very  carefully  he  aided  to  alight  a  slender 
young  woman  in  that  same  long,  luxurious  sortie  du 
bal.  The  hood,  however,  did  not  seem  to  match  the 
delicate  and  dainty  cloak,  yet  was  effective  in  ob- 
scuring the  features  of  the  wearer.  Leaning  on  the 
arm  of  Mr.  Granger,  who  seemed  more  than  usually 
pallid  and  nervous,  she  ascended  the  steps  and  they 
were  admitted  without  the  formality  of  knocking  or 
ringing.  Evidently  they  were  expected. 

Ten  o'clock  was  striking  when  next  the  front  door 
opened,  carriage  Number  One  being  still  there  await- 
ing its  fare,  and  this  time  the  light  of  the  vestibule 
lamp  shone  brilliantly  on  the  radiant  features  of  Miss 
Lorna  Brenham,  as  she  came  forth  into  the  night, 
saying  laughing  farewells  to  invisible  friends  within 
the  hospitable  hallway.  Then,  taking  Mr.  Granger's 
arm,  she  lightly  descended  the  marble  steps;  glanced 
joyously  about  her  as  though  revelling  in  the  beauty 
of  the  still  autumn  evening,  the  spangled  skies,  and 


272  A    BROKEN    SWORD. 

the  consciousness  of  her  own  charm  and  power.  The 
stout  civilian  was  not  so  far  away  that  her  keen  eyes 
failed  to  mark  him,  and  yet  her  voice  had  a  glad, 
triumphant  ring  as  she  gave  her  queenly  order. 
"Home  again,  driver.  Then,  Mr.  Granger,  where 
shall  he  take  you?" 

The  butler,  white-haired  and  ceremonious,  had  fol- 
lowed, and  now  bowed  low  as  they  drove  away. 
Then  turning  to  the  other  coachman,  he  said,  "You 
need  not  wait  longer.  The  colonel  sends  this,"  and 
tendered  a  bill,  at  sight  of  which  that  wide-awake 
horseman  whipped  up  his  team  and  drove  instantly 
away  lest  the  mistake  be  discovered,  and  he  be  re- 
quired to  refund,  or  furnish  change.  And  so  it  hap- 
pened that  when  the  half  hour  came  only  a  stout  and 
semi-mystified  civilian,  impatiently  scouting  in  front 
of  the  mansion,  remained  to  greet  a  little  squad  of 
officers  that  arrived  almost  on  a  run.  Only  a  very 
sleepy  servitor  answered  their  loud  knock  and  ring. 
Only  a  very  dignified  and  decidedly  supercilious 
major  of  infantry  came  forward  into  the  vestibule  to 
see  what  was  wanted.  "Judge  Hanson,"  he  loftily 
explained,  "is  too  lame  to  leave  his  sofa.  Miss  Han- 
son has  retired,  and  Mr. — or — ah — rather  Colonel 
Hoyt — why — ah — the  colonel  should  be  well  on  his 
way  to  Washington  by  this  time,  at  least — ah — such 
was  his  intention  when  he  left — ah — at  ten  o'clock. 
Lieutenant  Barclay?  Oh,  ah,  the  gentleman  who 
came  in  search  of  Colonel  Hoyt.  Ah,  yes,  they  prob- 
ably will  next  be  heard  of  in  Washington." 


CHAPTER    XXII. 

A     RUINED     CAREER. 

EXCITEMENT  to  an  unusual  degree  was  mani- 
fest about  the  old  War  Department  building 
the  morning  that  followed  this  eventful  night  in  Bal- 
timore. Strange  and  stirring  news  had  come  from 
up  the  Potomac,  from  the  neighborhood  of  that  de- 
lightful nook  in  the  mountains  where  the  hamlet  of 
Knoxville  nestled  at  the  edge  of  the  beautiful  river, 
with  the  London  Heights  but  a  short  distance  away 
on  the  Virginia  shore,  and  those  of  Maryland  shield- 
ing the  valley  from  the  winds  that  in  winter  swept 
down  from  the  Alleghenies  of  Western  Pennsylvania, 
and  bound  in  icy  fetters  the  swift-running  stream  that 
swirls  and  eddies  among  the  rocks  at  Harper's  Ferry. 
A  charming  resort  for  rest  and  recuperation  was 
the  Catoctin  Valley  in  early  October,  and  there  had 
McClellan  lingered  while  Lee  and  his  battered  bat- 
talions leisurely  took  the  route  up  the  Shenandoah. 
Then,  week  followed  week  after  the  bloody  work  of 
Antietam,  and  the  only  thing  doing  in  the  Army  of 
the  Potomac  seemed  to  be  refitting.  The  order  of 
the  day  was  draw  clothing,  shoes,  and — poker.  Much 
as  the  army,  and  incidentally  the  administration, 
might  wish  for  another  clinch  with  Lee,  they  couldn't 

273 


274  A    BROKEN    SWORD. 

stir  McClellan  until  he  was  ready,  and  then  it  was,  as 
before,  that  the  Virginian  took  the  initiative,  and  the 
news  that  stirred  the  War  Department  to  its  very 
foundation  this  fine  October  morning,  wired  or  wig- 
wagged from  various  points  in  view  of  the  Maryland 
Heights,  sent  officers,  orderlies  and  clerks  scurrying 
up  and  down-stairs  and  all  over  town,  was  of  such 
a  character  as  to  completely  overshadow  in  impor- 
tance two  despatches  that  came  buzzing  in  from  Bal- 
timore toward  eleven  o'clock.  A  very  excitable  staff 
official — by  no  means  one  of  the  placid  Townsend 
type,  but  rather  of  the  vehement,  energetic,  high- 
pressure  personages  usually  dear  to  the  secretarial 
heart — went  running,  wide-eyed  and  open-mouthed 
into  the  secretarial  office,  and  ventured  to  burst  in 
all  unannounced  upon  a  conference  of  the  powers, 
and  to  interrupt  the  lion  in  the  midst  of  a  terrific 
tirade  at  the  expense  of  certain  generals  up  the  river 
who  had  permitted  something  or  other  to  be  done 
under  their  very  noses.  "Order  them  to  pursue  at 
once!"  was  Stanton  saying.  Order  Pleasanton  here 
and  Porter  there  and  Buford  elsewhere.  Order  guns 
to  Frederick;  cavalry  to  Point  of  Rocks;  brigades  up 
the  Monocacy,  up  the  Catoctin — up  to  the  Gaps; — 
cover  every  ferry,  block  every  ford;  stop  every  hole; 
surround,  circumvent,  capture,  gobble,  annihilate,  but 
get  them  whatever  else  you  do!  get  them!  Not  a 
horse  or  man  of  that  crowd  must  ever  get  back  to 
Virginia!  Mark  the  Secretary's  words,  now,  not  one! 
"What  the  devil  do  you  want,  sir?  Despatches  from 


A    RUINED    CAREER.  275 

Baltimore?  Damn  Baltimore!  They  can't  be  any- 
where near  Baltimore.  I  wish  to  God  they  were! 
Then  we  might  nab  them  instanter!  No,  sir!  This 
is  no  time  for  side  shows.  What  I  want  is  Stuart — 
dead  or  alive." 

Then  away  went  the  Secretary  to  the  White  House, 
for  this  was  a  cabinet  day  and  the  very  devil  was  to 
pay  along  the  Potomac.  And  thus  it  happened  that, 
up  to  a  later  hour  in  the  afternoon,  there  was  no  one 
in  actual  authority  in  the  War  Department  to  give 
definite  orders  on  a  matter  the  commanding  officer 
at  Baltimore  conceived,  in  the  light  of  his  instruc- 
tions, to  be  of  no  little  importance,  for  at  noon  he 
wired  to  know  whether  his  previous  telegram  had 
been  received,  and  that  previous  message  read  sub- 
stantially as  follows: 

"  Adjutant  General, 

"  Washington. 

"  Major  H.  Wallis  failed  to  report  this  morning,  nor  did  he  take 
train  for  Washington.  Has  not  been  seen  since  last  night.  What 
instructions  ?  " 

Another  wire  from  the  same  source,  received  al- 
most at  the  same  time  read: 

"  Adjutant  General, 

"  Washington. 

"  Lieutenant  E.  C.  Barclay,  — th  Infantry,  arrived  with  exchanged 
prisoners  Fort  McHenry  6  P.  M.  yesterday.  Disappeared  before 
seven.  Traced  to  residence  Beverly  Hanson.  Major  Wallis  there 
at  time,  also  Colonel  B.  Hoyt.  Inmates  declare  Hoyt  and  Barclay 


276  A    BROKEN    SWORD. 

left  for  Washington  10  P.  M.  Not  seen  at  depot  or  on  trains.  Can- 
not be  found  here.  Captain  Webb  exchanged,  says  Barclay  seri- 
ously ill  when  leaving  Richmond.  Looked  like  different  man  on 
reaching  Baltimore." 

No  wonder  the  acting  assistant  adjutant  general  in 
charge  of  telegrams  was  in  something  of  a  flutter. 
With  more  experience  he  would  have  gone  to  his 
immediate  chief  instead  of  direct  to  Stanton.  But  he 
was  young  and  callow  and  over-enthusiastic,  and, 
only  when  too  late  to  undo  the  error,  went  he  to  the 
over-worked  Adjutant  General  himself,  busy  at  the 
moment  dictating  wires  by  the  dozen,  to  command- 
ers all  over  middle  and  western  Maryland.  By  the 
time  his  attention  could  be  secured  it  was  high  noon, 
and  a  third  despatch  had  come. 

"  Adjutant  General, 

"  Washington. 

"Ascertained  that  Major  Wallis  left  Hanson  residence  about 
midnight.  Report  of  strange  disturbance  there  8  P.  M.  Am  send- 
ing you  staff  officer  with  particulars  first  train." 

It  was  after  two  o'clock  when  that  officer,  accom- 
panied by  a  stout-built  civilian,  reached  the  war  office 
and  the  presence  of  the  chief,  and  what  they  had  to 
tell  was  of  such  a  character  that  messengers  were  de- 
spatched at  once  to  Willard's  and  elsewhere  to  see  if 
Colonel  Hoyt  had  reached  the  city,  while  in  person  the 
Adjutant  General  waited  with  his  news  upon  the  Sec- 
retary of  War,  and  for  the  tenth  time  that  day,  prob- 
ably, Stanton  arose,  as  the  papers  were  fond  of  saying, 
'like  a  lion  in  his  wrath,"  and  began  to  make  the  fur 


A    RUINED    CAREER.  277 

fly.  To  clinch  the  case  against  Major  Wallis  he  had 
especially  needed  the  evidence  of  Lieutenant  Barclay, 
and  now  Barclay  was  missing.  To  bring  matters  to 
a  head  where  Wallis  was  concerned,  he  needed,  of 
course,  to  bring  Wallis  again  before  the  court,  and 
now  Wallis  was  missing.  To  make  Colonel  Hoyt 
fully  conscious  of  the  depth  of  his,  the  Secretary's 
disgust  at  his  utter  failure  as  a  witness  for  the  prose- 
cution, Stanton  had  had  in  mind  a  project  for  Hoyt's 
grave  discomfiture  so  soon  as  Hoyt  should  report  for 
duty,  and  now,  by  the  Eternal,  Hoyt,  too,  was  miss- 
ing! All  three  missing!  All  three  mysteriously  as- 
sembled at  the  residence  of  the  arch  counsel  and  con- 
spirator Hanson,  and  all  three  now  as  mysteriously 
disappeared!  What  could  it  mean  but  that  Hoyt 
had  gone  over,  soul  and  body,  bag  and  baggage  to 
the  cause  of  the  accused,  if  not,  indeed,  to  the  cause 
of  the  enemy?  What  could  it  mean  but  that  there 
had  been  some  deep-laid  plot  to  lure  the  government's 
witness,  Barclay,  to  the  residence  of  the  counsel  for 
the  accused,  and  there  either  to  convert,  corrupt  or 
make  way  with  him?  The  story  of  the  excitement, 
the  sounds  of  struggle,  the  fall,  the  crash,  the  mys- 
terious goings  and  comings  about  the  Hanson  house 
stirred  him  to  the  spinal  marrow.  More  messages 
had  flashed  to  and  fro,  and  at  four  o'clock  that  after- 
noon the  order  went  forth  to  all  secret  service  of- 
ficials, to  the  provost  marshals  of  the  great  cities  near 
the  front,  and  to  police  agencies  everywhere,  to 
search  for  three  Union  officers  believed  to  be  deserted 


278  A    BROKEN    SWORD. 

to  the  enem^,  to  wit:  Colonel  Bernard  Hoyt,  Major 
Harold  Wallis  and  Lieutenant  E.  C.  Barclay,  and 
to  apprehend  or  arrest  them  wheresoever  found. 
Also  there  went  another  mandate  calling  for  prompt 
and  summary  measures  to  bring  to  justice  one  Bever- 
ly Hanson,  a  citizen  of  Baltimore,  sympathizing  with 
the  cause  of  the  States  in  rebellion,  and  if  need  be 
to  search  his  homestead  for  the  persons  of  the  dere- 
lict officers  and,  incidentally,  for  any  incriminating 
evidence  that  might  there  be  found. 

The  odd  part  of  this  was  that  Hanson  knew  it  al- 
most as  soon  as  did  the  provost  marshal  of  Baltimore, 
and  was  far  less  flurried  at  the  prospect.  The  officers 
of  the  law  who  called  upon  him  that  evening,  as  he 
was  being  aided  to  his  seat  at  the  dinner  table — 
his  daughter  and  two  or  three  old  and  respected  resi- 
dents of  Baltimore  being  the  others  present — were 
received  with  marked  civility  and  courtesy,  and  bid- 
den to  make  the  search  as  they  saw  fit,  and  themselves 
perfectly  at  home.  Marvelous,  indeed,  was  the  con- 
trast between  the  demeanor  of  this  distinguished 
civilian  and  counselor  and  that  of  the  military  victim 
of  the  same  vehement  order,  who  fell  forthwith  into 
the  clutches  of  the  martial  law.  Bernard  Hoyt  when 
told  he  was  under  arrest  turned  to  and  fought  like 
a  tiger. 

Marked  as  had  been  the  excitement  about  the  War 
Department  all  that  day,  it  was  but  the  shadow  of  the 
sensation  that  thrilled  all  Baltimore.  The  failure  of 
Lee's  northward  march  to  "fire  the  Maryland  heart" 


A    RUINED    CAREER.  279 

and  rouse  the  State  to  concerted  action,  had  caused 
woeful  disappointment  to  the  faithful.  Then  the  bloody, 
bootless  fight  at  Sharpsburg  had  proved  fearful  in  its 
array  of  killed  and  desperately  wounded,  for  hun- 
dreds of  prominent  Southern  families  living  both 
North  and  South,  were  plunged  in  grief  and  many 
and  many  a  homestead  was  decked  in  mourning. 
But,  little  by  little,  hope  and  courage  came  again  as 
McClellan  halted  at  the  Potomac,  balking  when  all  the 
Northland  would  have  said  pursue.  Lee,  finding  him- 
self unfollowed,  strung  his  bivouacs  along  the  Shen- 
andoah  and  his  pickets  beside  the  Potomac  shore. 
The  stars  and  bars  still  waved  in  sight  of  Northern 
soil.  The  blue  St.  Andrew's  cross  still  quivered  in 
its  field  of  red,  stirred  by  the  Northern  breeze,  and, 
though  in  heavy  divisions  the  Union  army  camped 
along  the  dividing  river,  gay  gallants  of  Maryland 
and  Virginia  were  galloping  about  the  old  familiar 
lanes  by  night  and  whispering  tales  of  hope  to  many 
a  sympathetic  ear — tales  that  were  repeated  far  and 
wide  and  came  with  the  swiftness  of  the  wind  to  Balti- 
more. Cities  must  not  starve  at  such  times.  Farm- 
ers by  hundreds  must  enter,  driving  in  with  flocks  and 
herds,  with  food,  forage  and  news,  and  at  the  very 
moment  when  sore  and  anxious  hearts  were  brooding 
over  the  peril  which  involved  two  brothers,  the  ques- 
tion that  kept  two  households  in  sleepless  vigils  and 
conference  all  the  livelong  night  was  settled  thrill- 
ingly,  unexpectedly  with  the  coming  of  the  dawn — 
and  tidings  from  the  Blue  Ridge. 


280  A    BROKEN    SWORD. 

Eugene  had  been  safely  spirited  away  to  the  Sout- 
ters,  where,  about  midnight,  Harold  Wallis  joined 
him.  The  problem  now  was  to  get  him  back  across 
the  Potomac  at  once  and  before  the  beginning  of  the 
hue  and  cry  sure  to  be  raised  as  soon  as  "Barclay" 
was  missed,  and  it  was  discovered  that  Major  Wallis 
had  failed  to  return  to  Washington.  Looking  ten 
years  older,  his  face  white  and  lined  and  drawn,  Har- 
old was  writing  letters  in  the  library.  Well  they 
realized,  all  but  the  dullard  who  had  thus  involved 
them,  that  the  end  of  Harold's  soldier  days  had  come, 
that  never  again  would  he  be  permitted  to  draw 
sword  for  the  old  flag.  Stanch  rebel  that  she  was, 
Lorna  Brenham  almost  sobbed  aloud  at  sight  of  the 
dumb  agony  in  his  eyes,  but  he  led  her  aside  and 
spoke  low  and  hurriedly,  Eugene  being  the  one 
thought,  Eugene,  that  wretched  little  Benjamin  of 
their  father's  heart;  he  must  not  be  taken;  he  must 
not  die  the  death  of  a  spy — throttled  like  coward  as- 
sassin by  the  noose.  Back  to  the  shelter  of  the  stars 
and  bars  they  must  spirit  him  within  another  night 
and  day  or  the  gates  would  be  closed  forever.  Already 
he  was  out  of  soldier  and  into  civil  garb — the  Soutters 
had  seen  to  that.  Oh,  if  they  could  but  get  him  out  of 
Maryland !  Over  on  the  eastern  shore  were  kinsfolk 
who  could  give  him  refuge  for  awhile,  but  how  to  send 
him  thither  was  the  question.  Every  boat  across  the  bay 
was  searched.  Pickets  watched  the  Susquehanna  about 
Havre  de  Grace.  The  old  route  to  Virginia  down  by 
Port  Tobacco  and  across  to  Mathias  Point  might,  of 


A    RUINED    CAREER.  281 

course,  be  tried,  but,  above  all  others,  it  would  be 
patrolled  as  never  before  within  another  day.  "He 
hasn't  sense  to  go  alone,"  said  Harold,  sadly.  "I,  or 
some  one,  must  be  with  him." 

"But  you,  major,  how  can  you  go?"  was  the  question 
asked  by  the  elder  Soutter,  even  then  writing  importu- 
nate summons  to  one  of  the  keenest  of  the  Confederate 
colony  at  hand. 

"How  can  I  stay?"  was  the  solemn  answer.  "There 
is  nothing  left  for  me — now." 

It  had  been  arranged  that,  when  the  Hansons'  car- 
riage returned  after  depositing  its  unconscious  freight 
at  that  country  house  on  the  westward  pike,  the  foot- 
man should  be  sent  over  with  the  latest  news  of  the 
venture ;  but  four  o'clock  in  the  morning  had  come  and 
still,  behind  darkened  windows,  they  sat  and  planned 
and  waited  and  wondered  and  no  word  reached  them. 
In  answer  to  notes  sent  out  to  certain  of  the  colony 
it  was  promised  that  by  daybreak  there  would  be  one 
or  two  others  to  join  the  conference,  but  the  gray  of 
dawn  was  draping  the  eastern  sky,  and  a  pallid  light 
creeping  up  the  deserted  avenue,  and  not  a  soul  from 
without  had  come  to  aid.  Harold  Wallis,  pale  and 
silent,  was  pacing  slowly  up  and  down  the  hall,  his 
head  bowed  in  deep,  painful  thought.  Eugene,  ap- 
parently the  least  concerned  in  the  entire  establishment, 
had  fallen  asleep  over  the  papers  and  his  fifth  cigar — 
on  a  sofa  in  the  library.  There  was  excuse,  perhaps,  for 
his  fatigue — Miss  Brenham  and  Granger  had  been 
plying  him  for  hours  with  questions  about  friends  in 


282  A    BROKEN    SWORD. 

the  unattainable  South.  Mrs.  de  Ruyter,  too,  had 
sought  her  pillow,  as  had  also  a  certain  few  of  the  house- 
hold, but  down  on  the  parlor  floor  Lorna  Brenham 
flitted  from  window  to  window  of  the  darkened  rooms, 
and  Granger  followed  like  a  shadow.  Peering  through 
the  blinds,  she  could  see  that  other  shadows,  one  at  least, 
hovered  ever  within  view,  keeping  watch  for  Wallis's 
reappearance,  noting  all  that  took  place  about  the  prem- 
ises, and  just  as  the  bells  of  a  neighboring  steeple  were 
clanging  out  the  hour  of  six,  there  came  a  ringing  at 
the  area  bell,  and  Lorna,  ordering  all  others  to  remain 
where  they  were,  ran  down  to  the  kitchen ;  found  at 
the  back  door  a  servant  from  a  certain  family  close  at 
hand,  note  bearing.  Two  minutes  later  she  came  tear- 
ing up  the  stairs,  joy  flashing  in  her  eyes,  delight  and 
triumph  ringing  in  her  words : — 

"O,  Glory!  glory!  glory!"  she  cried.  "Jeb  Stuart 
is  north  of  the  Potomac  with  his  whole  brigade  and 
striking  for  Baltimore.  Now  have  Eugene  ready!" 

And  this  was  hours  before  the  War  Department 
began  to  hear  what  had  been  going  on  at  Hansons'. 

Early  that  afternoon,  afar  out  beyond  the  Relay 
House,  where,  in  those  days  the  tracks  of  the  Baltimore 
&  Ohio  parted  company — the  westward  bearing  away 
for  the  Monocacy  Valley  and  for  Point  of  Rocks,  the 
other  southward  for  Washington — a  stout  farm  buggy 
behind  two  mettlesome  bays  was  spinning  over  the 
pike,  "tooled"  by  a  tall  man  enveloped  in  a  linen  duster, 
close  buttoned  about  the  throat.  He  wore  an  old  felt 
hat,  pulled  well  down  over  his  spectacled  eyes,  a 


A    RUINED    CAREER.  283 

farmer's  full  beard  and  heavy  gloves  of  buckskin.  Be- 
side him  sat  a  womanly  form  in  sun  bonnet  and  shawl. 
A  linen  lap  robe  was  tucked  in  about  the  seat.  The 
buggy  top  was  hoisted,  although  the  day  was  fair. 
Jugs,  baskets  and  boxes,  all  apparently  well  filled  and 
indicative  of  a  day's  purchasing  in  town,  were  stowed 
about  the  "rig,"  and  the  guard  at  the  toll  gate  had  but 
carelessly  examined  the  pass  of  the  provost  marshal  in 
favor  of  Mr.  John  Borie,  of  Westminster,  who  had 
business  at  Ellicott's  Mills  and  points  in  Howard  and 
Carroll  counties.  The  mills  were  passed.  The  last  of 
the  chain  of  outposts  of  the  Baltimore  garrison  was  now 
left  behind;  and,  at  the  first  northward  bearing  road, 
the  buggy  turned  from  the  pike  and  sped  away  in  the 
new  direction.  There  was  apparent  need  of  haste,  for 
foam  was  flying  from  the  bits  and  flecking  the  glossy 
flanks  of  the  team  when  next  they  were  noted,  toward 
6  P.  M.,  by  two  officers  riding  in  on  the  Liberty  Road. 
One  of  these  latter  held  up  a  hand  in  signal  to  the  driver 
to  stop,  and  with  much  apparent  effort  the  mandate  was 
obeyed,  but  not  until  the  horsemen  had  been  passed, 
so  that  these  latter  had  to  whirl  about  and  follow,  and 
were  miffed  at  having  to  do  so.  "You  seem  in  a  devil 
of  a  hurry,  friend,"  said  the  senior  of  the  two.  "I 
signalled  when  you  were  half  a  dozen  rods  away.  Are 
you  just  out  from  town?" 

"Just  out,"  was  the  short  answer. 

"See  anything  of  an  officer  on  horseback,  head  done 
up  in  bandages,  riding  like  he'd  been  sick?"  was  the 
next  question,  in  the  vernacular  of  the  camp. 


284  A   BROKEN    SWORD. 

"No !"  But  between  slouch  hat  and  sun  bonnet  sud- 
den glance  was  exchanged. 

"You're  acquainted  hereabouts,  I  suppose,"  said  the 
officer.  "We  stopped  to  water  at  the  Courtnay  place 
back  yonder,  and  they're  in  a  funk  about  this  officer. 
He  was  brought  there  during  the  night,  thrown  from 
his  horse,  head  cut  open  and  leg  hurt;  seemed  half 
crazy  to-day  and  broke  out  an  hour  ago ;  nabbed  a  horse 
without  sign  of  a  saddle  and  galloped  off,  Indian 
fashion,  with  the  halter  shank  through  the  horse's 
mouth.  Why — he  must  have  passed  you  unless — 
Hullo,  here  comes  a  patrol !" 

The  tall  Mr.  Borie  leaned  forward  and  looked  back 
around  the  edge  of  the  buggy  top.  Behind  them,  Balti- 
more way,  a  cloud  of  dust  was  sailing  over  the  pike,  a 
squad  of  blue  jackets  coming  swiftly  on  at  a  trot.  The 
mettlesome  team  began  to  prance. 

"Hullo,  too !"  cried  the  younger  officer.  "Here  comes 
your  crazy  man !" 

Both  officers,  both  occupants  of  the  buggy,  at  the 
instant  turned  and  stared  into  a  little  lane  entering  the 
pike  from  the  northward  side.  Some  farm  buildings 
a  hundred  yards  distant  accounted  for  the  lane,  but  not 
for  the  stranger  in  Union  uniform,  with  bandaged  head, 
who  came  urging  a  reluctant  horse  to  shambling  gallop. 

"That's  all  you  need  of  us,  I  presume,"  said  the  man 
in  the  duster,  gathering  whip  and  reins  and  starting 
his  team.  But  already  the  patrol  was  within  hailing 
distance  and  somebody  shouting.  "Hold  on !"  "Halt  !''* 
cried  the  officer.  "These  fellows  want  you!"  Then 


A    RUINED    CAREER.  285 

quickly  he  spurred  his  agile  mount  in  front  of  the  bays, 
for  the  whip  was  uplifted.  Almost  at  the  same  instant 
the  lieutenant,  commanding  the  little  troop  of  horse, 
and  the  strange  rider  issuing  from  the  lane,  reached 
the  side  of  the  buggy,  and  without  an  instant's  hesita- 
tion, the  subaltern  began — excitement  evident  in  every 
tone  and  glance : 

"Colonel  Hoyt,  I  am  sure.  We  are  looking  for  you, 
sir.  One  moment,  please!  Sergeant,"  he  called,  and 
up  rode  a  sinewy  trooper,  with  a  brace  of  comrades 
at  his  heels.  Just  a  backward  nod  of  the  head  was  the 
officer's  sign,  and,  without  a  word,  the  trio  ranged 
themselves  about  the  crippled  colonel.  Then  their 
young  commander  turned  on  the  occupants  of  the 
buggy.  "Which  way,  sir? — and  where  are  you 
from?" 

For  answer  the  man  in  the  duster  began  fumbling 
at  his  vest  pocket.  The  heavy  glove  was  too  big  for  the 
slit  and  caused  delay. 

"Where  did  you  come  onto  the  pike?"  continued  he 
of  the  patrol,  impatiently.  "They  told  us  at  the  outpost 
that  no  team  had  gone  out !  Yes — your  pass — if  you've 
got  one." 

Impatient  in  turn  now,  the  tall  man  tore  off  the  left 
hand  glove,  and  then  that  hand  whipped  out  a  flat, 
farmer  wallet,  extracted  a  paper  and  held  it  forth  with- 
out a  word.  The  lieutenant  took  it  and  examined 
hurriedly. 

"John  Borie,  Westminster.  Oh,  yes,  I  see.  You're 
just  up  from  Ellicott's,  are  you?  Well,  pardon  my 


286  A    BROKEN    SWORD. 

overhauling  you.  Orders  are  orders.  •  You're  all  right ! 
Go  ahead !" 

Then  as  the  buggy  moved  on  without  ever  waiting 
for  the  paper  to  be  replaced  in  the  wallet,  for  the  muffled 
up  driver  had  thrust  it  between  his  teeth,  the  young 
officer  turned  on  the  bandaged  colonel,  who,  swaying  in 
his  seat  and  staring  at  the  swiftly  departing  vehicle, 
seemed  deaf  to  the  subaltern's  words : 

"Colonel  Hoyt,  I  am  ordered  to  conduct  you  to " 

But  he  got  no  further.  With  feverish  excitement  in 
his  one  visible  eye,  with  quivering  lips  and  trembling 
hands,  Bernard  Hoyt  had  sat  one  moment  as  though 
only  half  conscious,  half  awake.  Then,  as  the  buggy 
bowled  round  a  projecting  shoulder  of  hill  side,  clapped 
suddenly  his  heels  to  his  aged  charger's  ribs,  and  with 
wild  eagerness  in  his  tone,  shouted :  "Didn't  you  see 
that  hand? — that  class  ring?  Come  on,  quick!"  and, 
before  they  could  fathom  his  motive,  darted  away  in 
pursuit. 

Only  a  few  rods — only  a  short  hundred  yards  or  so 
around  the  bend ;  then,  shouting,  protesting,  frantically 
resisting,  Bernard  Hoyt  was  overtaken  and  almost  torn 
from  his  affrighted  horse,  and  borne  raging  to  the  road- 
side, while  into  the  darkness  of  the  gathering  night  the 
Maryland  team  drove  swiftly  away,  bearing  Harold 
Wallis — and  his  ruined  fortunes — and  his  brother  with 
him. 


CHAPTER    XXIII. 

A    GENTLEMAN    AT    LAST. 

A  SOLDIER  of  the  Union  lay  critically  ill  in  hos- 
pital at  Baltimore.  Mental  wear  and  tear,  ex- 
citement, exposure,  the  reopening  of  a  bad  gunshot 
wound  and  vain  struggling  against  fate,  foes  and, 
possibly,  friends  had  been  too  much  for  Bernard 
Hoyt.  The  cavalry  escort  that  brought  him  safely 
in  that  October  evening,  expectant  of  praise  for  duty 
well  done,  found  no  one  in  mood  for  anything  but 
expletives.  A  perfect  whirlwind  of  action  was  on 
at  headquarters.  Nobody  had  time  to  listen  to  any- 
body with  so  small  a  matter  as  a  delirious  colonel 
to  tell  about.  Stuart — Jeb  Stuart — was  all  the  cry. 
Stuart,  with  a  brigade,  a  division,  a  whole  corps  of 
cavalry  at  his  back,  was  coming  full  tilt  for  Federal 
Hill,  said  rumor.  Stuart  had  looted  Chambersburg ; 
tricked  Pleasanton;  turned  the  army  of  McClellan; 
rounded  the  Blue  Ridge,  and,  dodging  or  driving  every 
command  that  dare  oppose  him,  gathering  fresh  horses, 
supplies,  provisions,  prominent  citizens  and  powerful 
headway  with  every  hour,  was  now  bearing  down  on 
Baltimore  to  sack  the  city,  release  all  rebel  prisoners 
and  round  up  federal  officials  far  and  wide.  Hoyt's 
bewildered  captors,  without  opportunity  to  report  or 

287 


288  A    BROKEN    SWORD. 

tell  their  tale,  were  bidden  to  ride  to  the  right  about,  to 
go  at  the  gallop  and  join  other  cavalry,  hardly  less  be- 
wildered, to  help  to  head  off  Stuart  somewhere  out  to- 
ward the  Monocacy ;  and,  while  Southern  sympathizers 
by  the  thousand  spent  the  night  in  delirious  hope  and 
rejoicing,  and  Union  men  and  women  watched  with 
grave  anxiety,  and  soldiers  of  all  grades  kept  vigilant 
guard,  there  was  none  to  think  for  the  fevered  patient 
at  the  provost  marshal's  office  until,  toward  morning, 
somebody  with  a  head  on  his  shoulders  and  a  heart  in 
his  breast,  gave  ear  to  his  hitherto  disregarded  ravings, 
and  had  him  borne  off  to  a  hospital  and  to  bed. 

Not  until  it  was  known  by  noon  the  following  day 
that,  so  far  from  coming  east,  Jeb  Stuart  was  heading 
for  the  Potomac,  did  officials  at  Baltimore  begin  to 
breathe  "easily.  Not  until  nightfall  that  day  was  there 
inquiry  from  Washington  as  to  what  had  been  done  to- 
ward capturing  the  three  culprits  supposed  to  be  de- 
serting to  the  enemy.  Not  until  near  midnight  was  the 
War  Department  informed  in  reply  that  Colonel  Hoyt 
was  safely  lodged  in  hospital,  incapable  of  escape,  and 
that,  if  credence  could  be  placed  in  his  semi-delirious 
statements,  the  brothers  Wallis  had  been  reunited  in 
Baltimore — that  the  missing  Barclay  was  no  other  than 
Eugene  Wallis,  and  that  in  disguise  the  pair  had  suc- 
cessfully passed  the  guards  and  taken  the  road  to 
Frederick.  Cavalry  had  been  sent  in  pursuit,  and  orders 
telegraphed  to  arrest  them  wherever  found. 

But,  "when  found,"  the  finders  made  no  move  to  ar- 
rest them.  It  was  all  the  finders  could  do  to  get  out 


A    GENTLEMAN    AT   LAST.  289 

of  the  way  of  the  plumed  gallants  of  Stuart,  who  were 
riding  jubilantly  southward  toward  Edward's  Ferry, 
after  nabbing  a  local  train  on  the  Baltimore  &  Ohio, 
among  whose  passengers  were  a  Mr.  Borie,  of  West- 
minster and  Mr.  Borie's  younger  brother.  The  shawl 
and  sun  bonnet  had  been  left  with  the  blown  team  and 
dust-covered  buggy  at  Sykesville,  where  no  Federal 
bayonets  opposed  the  boarding  of  the  belated  local. 
Stuart  spurred  confidently  onward  through  the  night, 
and  then,  when  a  big  force  of  blue  coats  was  thrown 
across  his  presumable  path  to  block  his  passage  on  the 
following  day,  and  "get  him,"  as  Stanton  would  have 
it  "dead  or  alive/'  the  gray  skirmishers  swept  forward 
in  far-spreading  line,  as  though  feeling  the  way  to  at- 
tack the  solid  ranks  of  waiting  infantry,  and  behind 
this  dusty  veil  the  gay  cavalier  turned  short  to  the  west ; 
swooped  down  on  the  canal  and  the  river  itself  above 
the  sharp  elbow  near  Ball's  Bluff,  the  scene  of  our  sad 
humiliation  barely  a  year  before,  and,  covered  by  Pel- 
ham's  saucy  guns,  skillfully  forded  his  whole  force  back 
to  the  sacred  soil,  bearing  with  him,  looking  for  the  last 
time  on  loyal  ground,  Harold  Wallis,  with  his  brother 
and  his  broken  fortunes,  faithful  to  a  father's  last  ap- 
peal, yet  false  to  the  flag  for  which  the  father  died. 

What  the  Army  of  the  Potomac  thought  and  said  of 
this  daring  exploit  of  Stuart's,  and  of  the  failure  to 
profit  by  so  apparently  reckless  a  flaunt  in  their  face, 
boots  nothing  now.  What  Stanton  did  was  fume,  and 
what  he  said  was  fury.  That  with  less  than  two  thou- 
sand horsemen  the  Southern  leader  should  presume*  to 


290  A  BROKEN  SWORD. 

ride  again  into  Maryland ;  pass  between  the  picket  posts 
to  the  right  of  McClellan's  host;  push  away  up  into 
Pennsylvania,  having  circled  the  main  army;  and  then 
trot  back  through  the  thick  of  the  divisions  east  of  the 
Monocacy,  was  something  sublimely  impudent  in  itself; 
but,  that  he  should  dare  to  whisk  away  with  him  "as 
hostages"  staid  and  substantial  citizens,  and  burden  his 
swift-moving  column  with  all  manner  of  booty,  ravished 
from  the  lap  of  Maryland  and  Southern  Pennsylvania, 
was  a  thing  so  amazing,  so  exasperating  that  there  is 
little  wonder  the  Iron  Secretary  wanted  to  know  if 
nothing  but  wooden  heads  and  wooden  horses  could  be 
found  in  our  cavalry.  Then  he  turned  to  discipline 
the  leaders  at  fault,  and  to  investigate  various  circum- 
stances connected  with  the  raid.  Among  the  foremost 
to  receive  his  vehement  attention  was  the  escape  of  the 
brothers  Wallis,  and  the  presumable  complicity  of  Ber- 
nard Hoyt,  now  not  only  delirious  in  hospital  but  doubly 
in  arrest. 

"But  soon  he  reined  his  fury's  pace" 

There  came  legislators  from  his  own  and  other  neigh- 
boring States,  and  reports  from  the  surgeons  in  attend- 
ance, and  finally  letters  through  the  lines  that  indeed 
gave  him  pause.  The  story  of  the  remarkable  exploit 
of  the  younger  Wallis ;  the  reunion  of  the  brothers  in 
Baltimore;  the  meeting  with  Hoyt  and  attempted 
seizure  at  Judge  Hanson's ;  the  speedy  and  sudden  flight 
of  the  brothers  in  disguise  and  their  rescue  on  the  verge 


A    GENTLEMAN    AT    LAST.  291 

of  recapture ;  the  arrest  of  Colonel  Hoyt  at  the  moment 
he  was  striving  to  overhaul  the  fugitives,  and  now  his 
pitiable  plight, — all  this  was  for  three  or  four  days 
overshadowed  by  the  details  of  Stuart's  startling  feat. 
Then,  little  by  little,  it  began  to  take  hold  in  the  columns 
of  the  press  and  then  to  spread  like  wildfire. 

It  boded  ill  for  many  a  Southern  sympathizer  in  Balti- 
more when  it  became  known  that  at  Judge  Hanson's 
residence  Colonel  Hoyt  had  met  with  serious  injury; 
that  from  Judge  Hanson's  residence,  in  Judge  Hanson's 
carriage,  he  had  been  sent  by  night  to  the  Courtnay  farm 
far  out  on  the  old  Liberty  Road,  and  there  held  until  the 
following  evening  when  he  made  his  escape.  The  order 
placing  the  Hanson  homestead  under  surveillance  and 
sending  the  lately  honored  and  revered  owner  to  Fort 
Lafayette  was  suspended,  so  far  as  the  judge  was  per- 
sonally concerned,  because  of  symptoms  of  physical 
breakdown.  Strong  Union  men,  old  friends  and  neigh- 
bors, went  to  Washington  and  pleaded  forcibly  for  him, 
telling  Stanton  what  Stanton  did  not  know  before,  how 
ignorant  Hanson  had  been  of  the  coming  of  Colonel 
Hoyt,  much  less  of  the  coming  of  Eugene  Wallis,  and 
further  they  could  say,  and  say  truthfully,  that  Hanson 
was  appalled  and  prostrated  by  such  accumulation  of 
calamities,  and  that,  more  than  any  man  living,  prob- 
ably, he  deplored  the  injuries  and  illness  that  had  be- 
fallen the  gallant  soldier  who  had  suffered  within  his 
gates.  In  strenuous  language,  too,  these  gentlemen  pro- 
claimed Hoyt's  utter  innocence  of  the  disloyalty  with 
which  the  irate  Secretary  had  charged  him,  and  the 


292  A   BROKEN    SWORD. 

grievous  wrong  done  to  him,  if  not  to  Hanson,  by  the 
order  of  arrest. 

And  so,  before  consciousness  returned  to  the  prostrate 
colonel,  that  arrest  was  revoked,  the  order  for  the  re- 
moval of  Judge  Hanson  to  Lafayette  suspended,  and 
the  guard  about  the  latter's  premises  measurably  re- 
duced. There  were  enough  of  them  there,  however, 
to  restrain  and  to  question  when  late  one  sunshiny 
October  afternoon  a  carriage  was  driven  to  the  curb, 
and  a  young  lady,  with  fair  patrician  features,  very 
pale,  was  assisted  to  alight  by  a  tall  young  soldier  in 
the  dress  of  a  subaltern  of  cavalry.  The  latter  showed 
a  slip  of  paper  to  the  official  on  duty,  and  they  were 
passed  on  into  the  house,  and  the  presence  of  the  incar- 
cerated master. 

He  was  lying  on  the  couch  in  the  parlor — the  same 
Colonial  sofa  whose  sharp  corner  had  so  nearly  split 
the  skull  of  our  cavalry  colonel,  and  with  him,  reading 
aloud  from  certain  letters,  sat  his  devoted  daughter. 
With  her,  pallid,  sorrowing  and  actually  subdued  in 
manner  if  not  in  spirit,  was  our  Georgia  beauty,  Lorna 
Brenham.  All  three  started  at  the  old  butler's  an- 
nouncement : 

"Miss  Rutherford,  suh,  and  Mr.  Gerald  Ruther- 
ford." 

Mr.  Hanson  strove  to  rise,  his  old-fashioned  cav- 
alier courtesy  demanding  this  homage  to  women  of 
every  age.  Miss  Hanson  started  to  her  feet,  the  color 
coming  and  going  in  her  delicate  face.  Lorna  Bren- 
ham sat  one  moment  speechless,  then  slowly  turned 


A   GENTLEMAN   AT   LAST.  393 

toward  the  curtained  archway,  and,  as  Miss  Ruther- 
ford entered,  arose  and  faced  her,  pallid,  silent,  with 
a  world  of  question  and  uncertainty  in  her  deep  and 
glorious  eyes.  Daring,  commanding  as  she  had  been 
in  the  moment  of  peril  when  instant  action  was  needed, 
she  stood  now,  conscious  of  the  havoc  that  had  been 
wrought  through  her  leadership,  if  not  actually  at  her 
demand.  One  soldier  ruined;  another  assaulted,  ac- 
cused and  well-nigh  crushed  by  his  successive  wrongs ; 
an  old  and  honored  citizen  brought  to  humiliation  if 
not  to  the  cells;  and  now,  with  Bernard  Hoyt  lying 
at  the  door  of  death,  here  stood  the  girl  he  loved  and 
sought  to  wed,  with  accusation  and  with  challenge  in 
her  unflinching  gaze.  Ethel  had  not  known  of  Lorna's 
presence,  yet  was  not  unprepared.  She  wished  to  see 
her.  She  had  that  to  say  which  was  better  spoken 
and  done  with  than  left  to  sear  and  smoulder  until, 
like  flame.,  it  crusted  the  surface  of  her  heart  against 
all  appeal  of  contrition,  against  all  hope  of  pardon. 

It  was  Miss  Hanson's  duty  first  to  greet,  and,  as 
best  she  could,  to  welcome  these  unbidden  guests ;  but, 
just  within  the  threshold,  Ethel  had  stopped  short  and 
stood  looking  straight  at  Lorna  Brenham.  It  was  the 
visitor  who  was  first  to  speak: 

"I  came  to  seek  Judge  Hanson "  and  for  just  a 

moment  her  eyes  turned  to  the  sofa.  "Please  do  not 
try  to  rise,  sir.  It  is  but  a  message — a  commission — 
from  my  mother  who  is  too  feeble  to  come  herself." 
Then  again  she  faced  the  Southern  girl,  and  the  eyes 
that  were  so  softly  blue  a  year  ago,  blazed  with  no 


294  A    BROKEN    SWORD. 

uncertain  fire  in  that  shadowy  room.  "Lorna  Bren- 
ham,  do  you  know  that  Colonel  Hoyt  is  dying?  Do 
you  realize  that  it — is  your  doing?" 

From  Miss  Hanson's  lips  there  came  a  gasp  of  dread 
and  dismay.  From  the  sofa  Mr.  Hanson's  voice  was 
uplifted,  with  his  trembling  white  hand,  half  in  pro- 
test, half  in  distress,  but  only  a  word  or  two  was  said. 
Ethel  was  listening  to  none  of  these.  She  had  eyes, — 
ears — only  for  Lorna  Brenham,  and  presently,  with 
slow,  stately  movement  Lorna  advanced.  Grief  and 
trial  had  given  added  dignity  to  her  queenly  bearing. 
There  was  no  shrinking,  no  evasion.  She  would  have 
faced,  as  her  kinsmen  were  facing,  the  shining  steel 
without  a  tremor,  but  the  woman  in  her  saw  another 
woman's  suffering,  and  it  was  that  that  sent  the  sob 
into  her  answering  words. 

"It  is  my  doing,  Ethel,  if  what  you  say  is  true,  yet 
I  pray  he  may  live.  He  would  have  hung  Eugene 
Wallis  for  a  spy,  and  it  was  to  save  Eugene  we — I — 
sought  to  hold  Colonel  Hoyt,  not  to  harm  him.  What 
happened  was  all  unpremeditated,  but — I  take  the 
blame.  Were  it  all  to  come  to  me  again  as  I  saw  it 
then,  unseeing  what  would  follow,  I  should  do  it  all 
again.  Tell  me,  if  it  were  not  to  arrest  Eugene  Wallis 
why  did  Bernard  Hoyt  come  here?" 

"To  redeem  his  promise  to  my  mother, — to  ask  par- 
don of  Harold  Wallis  in  the  presence  of  his  counsel 
and  best  friend  for  the  wrong  that  he  had  done  him. 
Colonel  Hoyt  believed — and  had  been  allowed  to  be- 
lieve— that  Major  Wallis  stole — yes,  stole — certain 


A    GENTLEMAN    AT    LAST.  295 

letters  from  mother's  desk — this  and — other  things — 
and  only  recently  at  Long  Branch  did  he  learn  how 
deeply  we  were  indebted  to  Major  Wallis.  He  never 
dreamed  Eugene  was  in  Baltimore;  but,  having  found 
him  here,  what  else  could  he  do?" 

"He  has  told  you  this?"  demanded  Lorna,  her  dark 
eyes  glittering,  her  slender  fingers  clutching  at  the  back 
of  the  nearest  chair.  "He  has  told  you  he  came  here 
to  make  amende  to  Major  Wallis?" 

"This  and  more.  He  was  conscious  when  we  reached 
him  yesterday,  but  they  will  not  let  me  see  him  now," 
and  here  the  soft  lips  quivered  uncontrollably,  but, 
proudly  as  Lorna's  her  head  was  raised,  and  she  turned 
to  the  Judge,  now  half  supported  by  his  daughter's 
circling  arm.  "It  was  to  you,  sir,  on  mother's  account 
I  came — may  I  present  my  brother,  Lieutenant  Ruther- 
ford? Major  Wallis  wrote  that  he  had  left  certain 
papers  with  you.  She  is  very  ill,  I  fear.  She  is  cer- 
tainly very  feeble,  too  feeble  to  leave  her  room  at  the 
hotel,  but  if  these  are  what  she  hopes  to  see,  it  may 
mean  new  life  to  her." 

Hanson  had  been  vainly  seeking,  without  interrupt- 
ing, to  induce  her  to  sit.  Gerald,  seeing  his  disquiet, 
came  forward  with  a  chair,  but  Ethel  motioned  him 
away,  and  Hanson  resignedly  bowed  his  head.  Evi- 
dently she  preferred  to  stand. 

"Poor  Wallis  had  time  to  write  only  three  or  four 
letters,"  was  the  grave  answer,  "and  none  to  talk  fur- 
ther to  me.  I  would  give  you  everything  he  left  with 
me  gladly,  dear  young  lady,  but  all  my  papers,  you 


296  A    BROKEN    SWORD. 

know,  are  seized  now.  It  is  to  the  Secretary  of  War 
your  mother  must  appeal." 

"Then  mother  cannot  see  then — now — at  once?" 
she  cried.  "I  cannot  tell  how  much  it  means  to  her. 
Indeed  I  do  not  know  how  much  it  may  mean.  There 
is  something  behind  all  this  trouble  I  have  never  fath- 
omed,— something  Major  Wallis  knew  and  was  striv- 
ing to  straighten  for  her, — something  concerning  my 
brother  who — died  in  Georgia.  Lorna  Brenham" — 
and  again  she  whirled  suddenly  on  the  friend  of 
bygone  days,  now  so  sadly  alienated — "you  are  a 
Georgian.  You  knew  Hugh  Preston.  You  must  have 
heard  stories  of  all  that  led  up  to  that  cruel  insult  and 
to  the  meeting  that  followed.  You  knew  Major  Forno, 
too,  and  what  brought  him  to  New  York  after  his 
state  had  seceded.  What  had  he  to  do  with  my 
brother  ?  What  was  he  to  Hugh  Preston  ?  What  had 
my  brother  done  to  make — gentlemen — his  enemies?" 

There  was  silence  for  a  moment,  then  came  the  sim- 
ple answer.  "I  cannot  tell  you,  Ethel." 

"But  you  know?" 

"Concerning  Ralph  I  know  almost  nothing.  They 
would  never  speak  of  it  at  home.  Major  Forno  would 
never  speak  of  it  to  me.  The  only  man  who  professed 
to  know  and  showed  a  disposition  to  tell  was  Eugene 
— and  Harold  Wallis  nearly  shook  the  life  out  of  him 
when  he  heard  of  it.  Ethel,  you  mourn  your  brother. 
You  would  have  done  everything  to  keep  his  name  un- 
sullied— to  save  him  from  disgrace  or  harm.  Can  you 
not  feel  for  Harold  Wallis  to  whom  Eugene  had  been 


A    GENTLEMAN    AT   LAST.  297 

left  almost  as  a  sacred  charge?  Think  what  ruin  that 
reckless  boy  has  brought  to  all  who  knew  him!" 

With  new  distress  in  her  face,  Ethel  Rutherford 
half  turned  as  though  appealing  to  her  brother,  and 
Gerald  then  came  slowly  forward. 

"My  brother  has  but  just  arrived  from  Harper's 
Ferry,"  she  faltered.  "Tell  them,  Gerald— I  cannot." 

And  in  the  gathering  dusk  the  young  soldier  spoke, 
solemnly — sadly. 

"Harold  Wallis  sacrificed  everything  for — nothing," 
said  he.  "Eugene  was  killed  in  front  of  my  regiment 
yesterday  morning.  At  least  he — died — like  a  gentle- 


CHAPTER    XXIV. 

THE    WEB    UNTANGLED. 

NEWPORT,  Saratoga,  the  Catskills,  Long  Branch 
and  Cape  May — the  resorts  of  society  in  the 
early  sixties — were  all  deserted  now.  Fifth  Avenue 
once  more  showed  its  colors  and  was  gay  with  feminine 
garb  and  alive  with  bunting.  Houses  that  had  been 
shut  all  summer — following  the  fashion,  even  though 
their  occupants  slept  behind  the  sombre  fronts  and  saw 
the  light  of  day  through  dusty  blinds — had  again  flung 
their  curtains  to  the  breeze  and  made  brave  show  of 
"just  reopening  for  the  season."  The  church  of  the 
elect  threw  wide  its  gothic  doors,  and  the  massive  form 
of  the  omnipotent  Brown  once  more  led,  or  blocked, 
the  way  to  the  aisles  of  grace.  The  old  familiar  faces, 
the  reverently  bowed  heads  of  the  first  families  had 
reappeared  in  many  of  the  old  pews.  The  gray  haired 
rector  resumed  the  old-time  soporifics — the  quartette 
choir  the  stirring  music  that  had  so  scandalized  the 
"ower  gude"  of  other  congregations,  and  semi-occa- 
sionally  rejoiced  its  own.  There  was  as  little  of  the 
odor  of  sanctity  as  of  eau  de  Cologne  about  the  flock 
of  Grace.  They  used  their  piety  as  they  did  their  per- 
fume, in  homeopathic  doses.  But  lambs  of  the  fold, 
the  feminine  at  least,  were  out  in  force  and  taking 

298 


THE   WEB    UNTANGLED.  299 

note  of  all  absentees  this  brisk  and  beautiful  Sunday 
morning  of  mid  autumn.  And  of  all  the  pews  that 
bordered  that  carpeted  via  Crucis — the  center  aisle — 
one,  and  only  one  was  empty.  Though  stranger  guests 
were  many  and  sanctuaries  few,  and  church  going  as 
firmly  fixed  a  habit  then  as  church  evasion  now,  no 
alien  foot  indented  the  soft  hassocks  of  the  Ruther- 
ford family  pew,  for  the  sexton  had  set  his  seal  against 
intrusion  and  a  knot  of  crape  upon  the  bolted  door. 

Perilous  as  had  been  the  illness  of  Colonel  Hoyt, 
it  yielded  to  youth  and  vigorous  constitution  rather 
than  to  medical  treatment,  for  the  methods  of  that  day 
and  generation  are  scored  as  barbarous  now.  Slight 
as  seemed  at  first  the  malady  of  the  aging  and  grieving 
mother,  it  gained  in  omen  as  she  lost  in  hope  and 
strength.  And  Ethel,  who,  with  Gerald,  had  spent 
hours  a  day  for  an  entire  week  at  the  side  of  the 
fevered  soldier,  was  speedily  called  to  give  all  time 
to  her  whose  days  were  evidently  numbered.  As  Ber- 
nard Hoyt  began  to  mend  and  to  recognize  those  about 
him,  the  fragile  woman  began  to  break,  to  wander  in 
mind,  to  see  in  Gerald  the  son  she  had  earlier  lost  and 
to  say  things  at  sound  of  which  Hortense  sought  vainly 
to  drive  Ethel  from  the  sick  room.  Hoyt,  days  before, 
had  been  given  a  bright  airy  hospital  tent  to  himself 
and  his  attendants.  Mrs.  Rutherford  had  been  re- 
moved from  the  hotel  to  Beverly  Hanson's ;  he  would 
listen  to  nothing  less;  and  there,  within  the  fortnight 
of  her  coming  to  Baltimore,  partly  in  search  of  the 
missing  link  in  the  evidence  she  craved,  partly  in  hopes 


300  A    BROKEN    SWORD. 

of  seeing  and  speaking  again  with  Hoyt,  the  spirit  of 
the  suffering  woman  flitted  away  perhaps  in  hopeful 
quest  of  that  spirit  which  had  gone  before,  and  brother 
and  sister  stood  orphaned  at  the  bedside,  looking  into 
each  other's  eyes  through  swimming  tears,  dismayed 
at  the  story  revealed  to  them  with  almost  the  last  flut- 
ter of  the  mother's  feeble  breath. 

Then,  when  there  was  sent  a  summons — a  stern  and 
imperative  summons — for  Hortense,  the  Frenchwoman 
had  vanished.  Then,  when  again  Ethel  Rutherford 
longed  to  hear  the  voice  of  her  knight  and  hero,  he, 
too,  had  gone.  The  army  had  swept  onward  at  last 
in  pursuit  of  Lee,  and,  though  weak  and  worn,  Ber- 
nard Hoyt  seemed  crazed  with  eagerness  to  be  again 
in  saddle  with  his  men,  and  the  doctors  let  him  go. 
Ethel  never  knew  until  long  days  later  of  his  coming 
to  the  house  during  the  last  hours  of  the  mother's  life, 
or,  for  long  weeks,  that  Hortense  had  stopped  his  card, 
and  sent  by  the  butler  the  message  that,  owing  to  Mrs. 
Rutherford's  condition,  both  sister  and  brother  begged 
to  be  excused.  Had  they  denied  themselves  to  all  the 
rest  of  the  world,  they  would  have  seen  him !  Sorrow- 
ing, but  uncomplaining,  he  went  on  to  Washington 
and  thence  to  Warrenton  in  time  to  share  in  the  heart- 
break that  seemed  to  seize  the  army  when  McClellan 
was  relieved.  That  was  mid  November,  and  by  that 
time  all  that  was  mortal  of  Cornelia  Rutherford  lay 
beneath  a  fresh-heaped  mound  in  Greenwood.  It  was 
December  before  Gerald  could  rejoin  the  regiment,  and 
then  all  was  fierce  activity  at  the  front.  Under  its 


THE    WEB    UNTANGLED.  301 

new,  untried,  but  loyal  commander  the  army  was  just 
beginning  the  desperate  assault  upon  the  old,  oft-tried 
foe,  now  lining  the  walled  heights  of  Fredericksburg. 
Never  again  until  after  months  of  sharp  campaigning 
and  finally  furious  battle,  was  Bernard  Hoyt  permitted 
to  see  the  face  of  the  girl  he  loved.  Then  it  was  in 
late  July.  Gettysburg  had  brought  him  new  laurels 
and  a  star  that  even  Stanton  swore  was  nobly  won. 
Now  he  was  to  command  a  brigade,  but  first  there 
was  "urgent  private  business"  to  be  attended  to,  and 
only  seven  days'  leave  could  be  accorded. 

Late  in  May  there  had  come  to  him,  as  they  were 
watching  the  fords  of  the  Rapidan,  a  sealed  packet 
under  cover  of  a  foreign  legation  in  Washington.  It 
bore  the  marks  of  travel.  It  was  read  with  vivid, 
almost  painful,  interest,  and  pondered  over  long  before 
he  summoned  his  former  adjutant,  now  a  zealous 
young  squadron  leader,  and  gave  it  into  his  keeping. 
"It  would  have  lifted  a  load  from  your  poor  mother's 
heart,"  he  said.  "It  must  be  carefully  guarded  now." 
Gerald,  having  read  and  re-read  it,  sent  it  by  trusty 
hand  to  his  mother's  closest  friend  and  counselor,  Dr. 
Tracy,  one  of  the  executors  of  the  mother's  will.  Later 
and  about  the  time  they  got  the  news  of  Gettysburg, 
it  had  been  shown  to  Ethel,  then  sojourning  with  the 
doctor's  household  at  Long  Branch.  The  long  letter 
therein  read  as  follows : 

"PARIS,  March  ^ist,  1863. 

"Mv  DEAR  SIR:  Months  have  elapsed  since  the  re- 
ceipt of  your  letter  dated  Warrenton,  November  2Oth, 


302  A    BROKEN    SWORD. 

1862 — as  noble  a  letter  as  was  ever  penned.  I  strove 
to  tell  you  at  the  time  how  deeply  it  touched  me,  but, 
like  all  my  efforts,  that,  too,  was  probably  vain.  I  did 
tell  you,  however,  that  there  seemed  at  least  a  likeli- 
hood of  my  unearthing  the  whole  truth  concerning 
Ralph  Rutherford's  sad  fate.  I  had  hoped  through 
other  means  to  do  this  long  ago.  I  had  promised  that 
sorrowing  woman,  his  mother,  as  much;  and  there 
was  a  time  when  I  hoped  that  there  might  come  as 
my  reward  that  which  would  have  a  thousand  times 
repaid  me  for  what  I  had  lost  personally  and  pro- 
fessionally before  my  arrest  and  trial  in  August  last. 
Only  a  soldier  like  yourself  can  know  what  it  is  to 
be  deemed  dishonored  and  disloyal  and  yet  be  unable 
to  explain.  All  those  old  hopes,  with  all  the  old 
ambitions  and  aspirations,  are  now  dead,,  and  all  too 
late  to  be  a  blessing  to  her  or  benefit  to  me,  the  truth 
is  brought  to  light.  You  found  wherein  you  had 
wronged  me,  and  nobly  sought  to  make  amende.  I 
found  wherein,  unknowing,  I  had  wronged  you,  and 
to  you,  therefore,  I  give  these  facts  in  their  entirety. 
They  could  never  have  won  for  me  what  was  already 
another's.  But,  knowing  you  as  I  now  know  you,  a 
knightly  and  chivalrous  foe,  I  place  them  in  your  hands 
that,  when  my  'treason'  is  the  subject  of  talk,  there 
may  be  one  friend  to  say  how  loyally  I  labored — even 
in  my  disloyalty. 

"The  winter  before  we  went  to^Utah  I  was  Hugh 
Preston's  guest  in  New  Orleans.  He  was  a  dashing 
fellow,  as  you  have  heard,  well  born,  well  connected, 
well  educated,  but  poor,  and,  when  forty  years  of  age, 
he  fell  madly  in  love  with  a  young  girl  just  out  of 
her  school  days  at  the  Ursulines.  Prior  to  that  time, 
as  the  devil  would  have  it,  Hugh  had  been  devoting 
himself  to — her  mother.  Fancy  how  that  fair  lady 


THE    WEB    UNTANGLED.  303 

liked  it  when  she  saw  her  supposed  devotee  actually 
smitten  with  her  lovely,  unsophisticated  child.  It 
afforded  me  keen  amusement  at  the  time,  but,  God 
knows,  it  was  short  enough.  The  girl  was  an  angel; 
the  mother  a  devil,  in  my  opinion;  and,  when  I  was 
ordered  off  to  overtake  the  expedition,  I  so  far  de- 
parted from  my  rule  as  to  venture  to  warn  a  man 
against  a  woman. 

"The  next  thing  I  heard  of  that  affair  was  long 
afterward.  You  remember  how  we  were  snowed  in 
on  the  Bridger  trail  and  how  new  the  world  seemed 
when  we  got  out  in  the  spring.  Hugh  Preston  had 
left  New  Orleans,  a  sadder,  wiser  man.  The  girl  had 
fallen  in  love  with  a  wealthy  young  New  Yorker  who 
had  become  devoted  to  her  even  before  I  left — Ralph 
Rutherford,  in  fact.  A  few  months  later  came  the 
tidings  that  Hugh  Preston  had  wantonly  insulted  that 
young  Northerner  in  the  Oglethorpe  Club  at  Savannah 
and  shot  him  dead  in  the  duel  that  followed. 

"Now,  Hugh  Preston  was  not  the  man  to  wantonly 
insult  anybody,  North  or  South ;  and,  sure  as  his  shoot- 
ing, I  saw  there  was  some  woman  back  of  it  all.  The 
more  sure  was  I  because  Preston  would  give,  and  the 
Club  could  find,  no  extenuation  for  his  conduct,  and 
shouldered  him  out  of  Savannah.  Women  cause  more 
shooting  than  ever  did  politics,  even  in  1860.  Preston 
went  abroad,  took  a  flyer  with  the  Chasseurs  a  Cheval 
in  Algeria,  and  I  found  his  trail  and  brought  him 
back  in  the  spring  of  '61,  for  by  that  time  I  had  seen 
the  Rutherford  family  and  had  heard  the  New  York 
version  of  the  matter.  As  Albert  Forno  he  joined  me 
and  told  me  his  story,  and  sobbed  like  a  child  when 
he  spoke  of  that  poor  girl.  There  was  no  doubt  he 
loved  her  with  all  his  soul ;  but,  with  the  mother  and 
his  years  both  against  him  at  the  start,  and  then  this 


304  A    BROKEN    SWORD. 

rich  and  handsome  young  Northerner,  what  chance 
had  he?  Leonore  Brunei  loved  Ralph  Rutherford, 
and  that  ended  it — or  would  have  ended  it — but  for 
that  fiend  of  a  mother.  Long  months  after  leaving 
New  Orleans,  Preston  was  in  Savannah,  when  who 
should  appear  there  but  Rutherford.  Preston  avoided 
the  club,  thinking  Rutherford  would  soon  leave,  return 
to  New  Orleans  and — to  her.  Then  came  a  letter  from 
Adrienne,  the  mother — a  fury  of  a  letter — telling  him 
that  the  girl  he  so  passionately  loved  had  been  duped, 
betrayed,  deserted;  and  they  were  going  away, — any- 
where to  hide  their  shame.  That  night,  in  his  fury, 
Preston  purposely  sought  Rutherford  at  the  Ogle- 
thorpe  where  Ralph  was  playing  high.  No  woman 
was  named.  Preston  simply  accused  Ralph  of  cheat- 
ing and  flung  cards  and  counters  into  his  face.  Gor- 
don, Ralph's  friend  and  kinsman,  was  away.  Seabrook 
was  over -from  Moultrie  on  a  visit.  He  bore  Ralph's 
message  to  Preston,  and  sent  the  poor  boy's  last  letter 
to  his  mother.  They  met  at  Thunderbolt  as  soon  as 
it  was  light  enough  to  see,  and  one  shot  settled  it. 

"Hugh  Preston  went  into  exile,  believing  he  had 
killed  the  man  who  ruined  the  girl  he  loved,  and  in 
that  conviction  he  remained  until  after  his  second  visit 
to  New  York  in  '61. 

"Meantime,  through  young  Barclay,  I  heard  stories 
of  Mrs.  Rutherford's  being  in  a  very  nervous  state — 
receiving  letters  that  gave  her  dreadful  seizures,  and 
Barclay  told  me  in  so  many  words  that  he  had  once 
heard  Hortense  threatening  her.  Also  that  there  was 
something  about  Forbes,  the  butler,  that  would  bear 
watching.  Barclay  and  I  fell  out  not  long  after  that, 
but  the  moment  I  set  eyes  on  Forbes  I  knew  I  had 
seen  him  before — at  the  spring  meeting  of  the  Metairie 
Jockey  Club,  attending  his  young  master,  who  was 


THE    WEB    UNTANGLED.  305 

even  then  showing  marked  attention  to  Leonore. 
People  I  knew  in  New  Orleans  had  looked  queer  at 
sight  of  the  two  women,  the  mother  and  daughter, 
driving  with  young  Rutherford,  but  little  had  been 
said. 

"Ralph  was  then  only  twenty,  but  old  for  his  years, 
as  you  know,  for  he  had  been  much  indulged,  had  trav- 
eled a  great  deal,  had  been  abroad  with  a  tutor,  etc. 
Now  he  saw  his  heart's  desire  and  could  not  have  it. 
By  his  father's  will  he  was  still  dependent  on  his 
mother,  and  by  her  will  he  could  never  marry  a  Roman 
Catholic.  Even  the  rector  of  Grace  admitted  that  Mrs. 
Rutherford  was  bigoted  on  that  score.  You  know,  Dr. 
Tracy  knew,  and  Ralph  knew,  that  if  he  married  with- 
out his  mother's  consent  before  he  became  of  age  he 
was  cut  off  without  a  shilling,  but  Hugh  Preston  knew 
nothing  of  this.  I  had  seen  enough  of  Leonore  and 
heard  enough  of  Ralph  to  believe  in  them  both,  and 
came  to  quick  solution  of  the  question — that  there  had 
been  a  secret  marriage — a  secret  to  be  kept  until,  being 
of  age,  he  could  win  his  mother  over  to  receiving 
Leonore,  but  before  that  ever  became  possible  came 
the  duel  and  his  death;  followed  in  a  few  months,  as 
we  were  assured,  by  that  of  Leonore.  Then  it  was, 
as  I  conceived,  that  that  infernal  she  cat  began  black- 
mailing the  poor  mother, — that  Forbes  and  Hortense 
were  in  league  with  her  against  their  own  mistress; 
and  then  the  disappearance  of  those  letters  from  Miss 
Rutherford's  reticule  that  Sunday  morning  added  to 
my  suspicions.  Proud,  sensitive,  devoted  to  her  son, 
it  would  have  bowed  her  head  in  shame  to  the  grave 
to  have  had  her  beloved  boy  shown  to  the  world  as 
one  who  deserved  the  death  that  had  been  dealt  him. 

"Then  I  succeeded  in  seeing  her  and  telling  her  my 
theory,  and  that  I  believed  it  possible,  with  the  letters 


306  A    BROKEN    SWORD. 

in  her  possession,  and  what  I  could  learn  through 
friends  in  the  South,  to  destroy  the  evil  story  Adri- 
enne  Brunei  stood  ready  to  swear  to.  It  was  exactly 
as  I  supposed.  Then  'Forno'  came  back  at  my  de- 
mand to  see  the  letters  she  had  kept  locked  in  her 
escritoire,  and  that  night,  when  I  called  on  her,  we 
searched  in  vain.  Already  they  had  been  abstracted 
— Forbes  or  Hortense,  of  course,  and  she,  poor  woman, 
dare  not  let  the  facts  be  known  because  she  feared 
some  public  esclandre  started  by  that  'mother  dam- 
nable' Brunei. 

"You  recall  that  then  I  was  hurried  off  to  Wash- 
ington. You  have  heard  that  there  I  was  in  corre- 
spondence with  Southerners.  I  was.  An  awful  com- 
plication had  arisen.  The  letters  sent  by  Ralph  to  his 
mother  were  the  love  letters  of  an  innocent  girl  whom 
he  devotedly  loved,  and  later  succeeded  in  making  his 
wife.  He  hoped  that,  if  he  survived  the  duel,  their 
grace  and  charm  and  innocence  would  so  appeal  to  the 
mother  that  he  could  then  win  her  consent  to  the  mar- 
riage, despite  the  difference  in  faith ;  but  even  then, 
hoping  to  survive,  for  he  was  no  novice  with  the  pis- 
tol, he  dare  not  tell  her  the  marriage  had  actually  taken 
place.  And,  worst  luck  of  all,  thanks  to  a  childish 
quarrel,  the  boy  and  girl  had  parted  in  pique  and 
anger;  each  was  waiting  for  the  other  to  write  for 
forgiveness,  and,  even  at  the  moment  when  he  faced 
the  vengeance  of  Preston's  aim,  the  poor  lad  did  not 
know  why  he  should  have  told  his  mother  all.  He 
died  in  ignorance  of  Leonore's  condition. 

"  (O,  what  a  tangled  zveb  we  weave 
When  first  we  practice  to  deceive!' 

"We  could  not  find  out  what  had  become  of  her. 
Preston  did  his  utmost  to  track  the  mother  through 


THE    WEB    UNTANGLED.  307 

the  South,  even  at  the  time  Georgia  was  claiming  his 
sword,  and  failed.  When  he  turned  up  in  Washing- 
ton, to  my  great  detriment,  it  was  to  say  she  was  some- 
where North,  and  later  we  found  this  true.  She  was 
there,  blackmailing  and  threatening.  She  had  a  back 
room  in  Twelfth  Street  that  commanded  yours  in 
Eleventh,  and,  as  we  heard  long  afterward,  that  black- 
guard Forbes  used  to  signal  to  her  from  the  Ruther- 
fords'  conservatory.  The  horrible  whip  she  held  over 
Mrs.  Rutherford's  head  was  the  threat  to  tell  the  world 
her  daughter  had  died  in  childbirth,  the  victim  of  Ralph 
Rutherford's  perfidy.  And  I  knew  that  she  knew  they 
were  legally  wed.  I  knew  she  probably  had  all  the 
papers  to  prove  it.  I  doubted  Leonore's  death,  and 
yet  could  not  prove  a  thing.  The  world  would  say 
Adrienne  could  have  got  all  she  wanted  by  simply 
proving  the  marriage,  but  Ralph  had  doubtless  told 
her  of  the  will  and  his  dependence,  and,  as  she  was 
low  and  crafty,  her  argument  was  that,  as  the  law 
justified  Mrs.  Rutherford  in  refusing  to  provide,  it 
never  occurred  to  a  woman  like  the  Brunei  that  the 
mother's  heart  would  plead  for  the  girl  her  boy  so 
worshiped.  No!  threat  and  blackmail  was  her  game, 
and,  now  that  Hortense  had  secured  the  letters  that 
told  how  fervently  Ralph's  love  was  returned,  and  all 
the  papers  were  in  the  hands  of  the  enemy,  Mrs.  Ruth- 
erford was  on  the  verge  of  distraction. 

"But  now  Preston  was  fully  aroused,  and  through 
friends  in  New  Orleans  he  secured  and  sent  me  a 
packet  of  letters  Leonore  had  written  to  a  schoolmate, 
also  some  statements  affecting  the  mother.  You  re- 
member the  row  there  was  about  that  night  at  Savage 
Station.  Coming  as  it  did  soon  after  my  meeting  with 
Eugene  in  front  of  the  Warwick,  it  nearly  finished  me. 
(Eugene  was  serving  on  Magruder's  staff  at  that 


308  A    BROKEN    SWORD. 

time.)  Through  De  Joinville,  who  knew  the  Brunels 
and  something  of  madame's  history,  I  was  able  to 
satisfy  McClellan  that  the  letters  were  strictly  private 
and  confidential.  Later  I  was  able  to  place  them  in 
Mrs.  Rutherford's  hands,  to  warn  her  further  against 
Hortense  and  Forbes,  and  to  promise  her  that  through 
Father  Gentil,  in  New  Orleans,  evidence  of  the  mar- 
riage should  yet  be  found. 

"At  this  time  you  stood  sturdily  in  the  way;  and 
when  your  testimony,  probably,  would  have  led  to  her 
being  summoned  as  witness  before  the  court  in  my 
case,  it  became  necessary  that  she  should  tell  you  the 
truth  as  to  my  connection  with  the  disappearance  of 
the  letters,  etc.,  and  she  told  you,  doubtless,  more  than 
was  necessary.  Then  Madame  Brunei  bled  her  sav- 
agely before  again  quitting  New  York,  and  our  failure 
to  bring  matters  to  a  climax  was  sapping  her  strength. 
Preston  secured  a  few  more  papers  which  he  sent  by 
that  mad  brother  of  mine,  and  then  came  the  catas- 
trophe at  Baltimore. 

"But  meantime  another  ally  had  joined  us  in  the 
person  of  Miss  Brenham.  She  had  in  abundance  what 
we  had  but  in  moderation — wit,  and  in  moderation 
what  we  lacked  totally — money.  She  has  given  freely 
of  both.  She  it  is,  not  I,  who  deserves  the  credit  of 
our  final  success.  Through  her  energy,  through  her 
means  and  maid — I  mustn't  forget  the  maid — Ma- 
dame Brunei  was  traced  to  Paris.  Here  was  found 
that  estimable  dowager.  Here  in  seclusion,  yet  safety, 
dwelt  Leonore  and  baby  Ralph.  (Mrs.  Rutherford 
would  have  loved  that  child.)  Here  we  found  Hor- 
tense and  Forbes,  who  has  done  me  the  honor  to  call 
and  ask  for  a  recommendation  as  butler  or  gentleman's 
gentleman,  and  herewith  I  send  you,  attested  by  our 
consul,  copies  of  all  important  papers,  including  the 


THE    WEB    UNTANGLED.  309 

marriage  certificate.  I  would  to  God  Mrs.  Rutherford 
might  have  lived  to  know  her  son  was  not  the  repro- 
bate she  feared. 

"And  now,  Hoyt,  farewell.  There  is  one  whom  in 
days  to  come  you  may  teach  to  look  upon  me  with 
kindlier  eyes  than  in  the  past.  I  was  not  all  disloyalty. 
There  is  another — no,  there  was  another  for  whom  we 
could  have  prayed  forgiveness,  even  from  Ethel  and 
her  mother,  but  he  died  like  a  hero  in  front  of  your 
guns  at  Fredericksburg:  You  are  destined  to  live  to 
adorn  the  profession  you  love,  and  for  which  you  are 
so  admirably  fitted.  I  loved  it,  better  than  was  deemed 
possible,  despite  the  fact  that  I  neither  adorned  nor 
was  fitted  for  it.  Should  you  ever  see  old  Jasper  at 
the  ferry,  tell  him  he  is  often  held  in  grateful  remem- 
brance by  Yours,  etc.,  etc., 

"H.  WALLIS." 


So  there  it  was,  the  long  story  of  the  misery  that 
had  so  wrecked  the  mother's  life — that  had  actually 
unhinged  her  mind,  and  that  had  involved  the  names 
and  fortunes  and  fair  fame  of  so  many  others.  They 
had  been  talking  of  her,  Bernard  Hoyt  and  Ethel,  in 
low,  reverent  tone,  that  soft,  starlit  evening  the  last 
of  July,  beneath  the  low  bluff  in  front  of  Howlands, 
alone  in  the  shabby  little  board  summer  house  at  the 
foot  of  the  stairs.  She  was  in  deep  mourning,  and 
there  were  traces  of  tears  about  her  fair  face,  and 
something  of  appeal  and  anxiety  in  her  swimming  blue 
eyes,  for,  though  he  had  been  there  only  thirty-six 
hours,  on  the  morrow  he  must  return  to  the  front. 
He  had  been  unusually  grave  and  silent,  even  for  him, 


3io  A   BROKEN    SWORD. 

but  in  his  manner  there  was  ever  that  same  gentleness 
and  tenderness  she  had  grown  to  expect  of  him,  no 
matter  what  she  might  have  said  or  done,  and  the  last 
time  they  were  at  Long  Branch  together  she  had  both 
said  and  done  things  that  might  well  have  tried  both 
temper  and  tenderness,  and  now  he  would  not  so  much 
as  allude  to  them.  He  seemed  to  be  thinking  only  of 
her  mother  and  Ralph  and  Gerald,  and,  oh,  of  course, 
in  a  protecting,  tolerant  way,  of  her,  instead  of  show- 
ing proper  resentment  of  her  unjust,  petulant  words. 
Of  course  all  that  had  been  wiped  out  by  her  being 
with  him  when  he  was  so  desperately  ill  at  Baltimore, 
but  then,  really,  how  very  little  he  knew  of  that,  and 
it  wasn't  a  thing  for  her  to  tell  about.  He  was  going 
back  to  the  front  now,  just  so  surely  as  that  big  yellow 
moon  was  peeping  up  at  the  edge  of  the  heaving  deep 
before  her  eyes,  and  who  could  say  when  she  could 
see  him  again — or  how.  Possibly  he  thought  his  whole 
duty  lay  with  his  country  now.  Possibly  he  thought 
that  she  could  only  think  of  her  beloved  mother.  He 
was  always  thinking  so  much  for  others.  It  was  high 
time  he  was  speaking  something  for  himself  if  ever 
he  meant  to.  Across  the  glistening  track  of  the  moon- 
light a  steamer  was  heading  southward — another  fol- 
lowed— another  seemed  but  a  cable's  length  behind. 

"Transports,"  said  he.  "The  Silver  Spoons  are  on 
one.  They  were  sent  up  to  quell  the  draft  riots  after 
Gettysburg,  you  know.  Poor  Wallis!  Think  how 
happy  he'd  be  if  he  were  only  again  at  their  head !" 

She  had  been  leaning  on  his  arm,  and  had  not  en- 


THE    WEB    UNTANGLED.  311 

tirely  withdrawn  her  hand.  Now  she  looked  up  quickly 
into  his  face.  "Do  you  think — there  is  no  other  hap- 
piness in  store  for  him?" 

Perceptibly  he  winced.  "I — heard  there  was/'  said 
he,  his  eyes  on  the  distant  flotilla. 

"Heard!"  she  exclaimed.  "Why,  it's  barely  two 
months  since  they  went  over,  and  hardly  any  one 
knows  he's  there." 

"Since  who  went  over?" 

"Who?     Why,  Lorna  and  her  aunt,  of  course." 

"And,  pardon  me,  but  what  have  they  to  do  with 
the  happiness  we  were  speaking  of?" 

Both  her  hands  clasped  about  his  arms  now  and 
turned  him  to  her.  Her  face  had  been  clouded.  Now 
it  brightened  with  womanly  sense  of  superiority. 

"Bernard  Hoyt,"  said  she,  something  very  like  a 
little  laugh  bubbling  with  her  words,  "do  you  know  I 
sometimes  think  you  are — dreadfully  stupid.  Don't 
you  know  that  Lorna  Brenham  and  Major  Wallis  will 
be  married  within  a  year — that  she  will  be  his  fortune, 
his  happiness?" 

"Upon  my  word,  I  never  thought  of  it,"  said  he, 
astonished.  Then  with  manlike  irrelevance:  "Poor 
Granger !" 

"Poor  Granger,  indeed!"  quoth  she,  casting  loose 
his  arm,  and  glad  enough  to  have  somebody  on  whom 
to  vent  her  wrath.  "Poor  Granger!  I've  no  patience 
with  men  who  can't  fight  for  their  colors,  or  stand  up 
for  their  convictions!  Can't  you  see  how  impossible 
it  is  for  a  girl  like  Lorna — for  any  kind  of  a  girl  with 


312  A    BROKEN    SWORD. 

a  head  and  a  heart  to  care  for  a  nondescript  like  him  ? 
Can't  you  see  how  Wallis's  sacrifices  and  sorrows,  some 
of  them  her  doing,  were  just  sure  to  turn  her  heart 
to  him?  What  owls  some  men  are!" 

Silently,  at  least,  as  an  owl,  he  turned  and  looked 
down  into  her  flushing  face,  with  a  something  in  his 
eyes  now  that,  imperious  and  superior  as  she  had  been 
but  the  moment  before,  caused  her  to  droop  and  falter 
before  him.  It  was  quite  a  moment  before  he  spoke. 
"The  last  time  I  heard  he  was  to  be  rewarded  in  that 
way  it  was  not  Lorna,"  he  gravely  said,  though  his 
heart  was  beating  hard.  "Wallis  at  least  stands  up 
for  his  convictions  if  he  has  asked  her,  too." 

"I  did  not  say  he  had — asked  her  or — anybody. 
Lorna  is  a  law  unto  herself,  and  he  will  be  more  than 
stupid  if  he  doesn't  see  she — cares  for  him." 

"Is  it  not  possible  he — cares  for  somebody  else?" 

"Himself,  yes,  and  Eugene,"  she  answered,  quickly, 
and  looking  up  for  an  instant  into  his  eyes :  "He  never 
lacked  self-esteem."  Then,  after  a  moment's  pause: 
"He  asked — no  one  else — to  my  knowledge." 

"He  asked  for  some  one  else,  and  had  her  mother's 
consent,"  said  he. 

"Mother  would  have — I  mean  on  Ralph's  account," 
she  began,  impetuously.  Then  in  wrath  and  confusion 
both  she  faced  him  fairly.  "Mother  did  not  know  what 

she  was  saying — she  did  not  know "  and  then 

came  another  abrupt  stop. 

"Know  what,  Ethel?  It  means  all  the  world  to 
me."  And  now,  pleading  with  all  his  deep,  long-re- 


THE    WEB    UNTANGLED.  313 

pressed  love  in  his  eyes,  Bernard  Hoyt  stood  bending 
toward  her,  his  strong  hands  seeking  and  clasping 
hers. 

"Then  why ?"  she  began,  but  her  cheeks  were 

burning  and  the  words  would  not  come.  The  distant 
lights  at  sea  had  faded  from  view.  The  big  round 
moon,  a  gleaming  disk,  was  illumining  the  bare  line 
of  the  bluff  above  them  and  the  shining  strand,  foam 
fringed  for  miles  on  either  side,  but  here  in  the  little 
summer  house  was  shelter  and  seclusion. 

"Why,  what?"  he  asked,  his  lips  so  near  her  white 
forehead  that  she  could  feel  the  trembling  of  the  soft 
mustache.  "I  have  loved  you  with  all  my  heart,  Ethel, 
ever  since  my  home  coming  in  '61 " 

"And — wouldn't  tell  me — until  now/'  she  almost 

sobbed.  "You  don't  deserve "  But  further  words 

were  lost — or  smothered. 


Many  a  moon  rose  over  the  broad  Atlantic  before 
again  they  gazed  together  upon  those  heaving  billows. 
They  were  journeying  eastward  then,  the  long  war 
ended — Ethel  and  her  soldier  liege,  Gerald  and  his 
fair  young  bride,  after  a  tumultuous  leave-taking  at 
the  Cunarder's  docks,  where  a  dozen  strong  service 
and  Seventh  Regiment  men  had  gathered  to  wish  them 
bon  voyage — Barclay  among  them — to  say  "God 
speed"  and  send  greeting  little  looked  for  to  another 
wedded  pair,  long  waiting  for  the  coming  of  these 
others  to  the  sunny  land  of  France,  there  to  meet  with 


314  A    BROKEN    SWORD. 

fond  and  pitying  hearts,  Leonie  and  her  little  Ralph, 
there  to  clasp  hands  with  those  who,  despite  the  snare 
of  sectional  strife,  the  web  of  Fate  that  so  nearly 
wrecked  so  many  lives,  had  proved  such  valiant  and 
such  valued  friends  and  allies. 


THE   END. 


King,   Char! 

tJJM<ZOi7«J 

.es 

jroo 

K522 
br 

A  "broken 

sword  , 

9128U5 


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